On a lark On a whim I said there’s two kinds of men in this world and you’re neither of them
And his fist Cut the smoke I had an eighth of a second to wonder if he got the joke
And in the car Headed home She asked if I had considered the prospect of living alone
With a steak Held to my eye I had to summon the confidence needed to hear her goodbye And another brief chapter without any answers blew by
And the songs that she sang in the shower Are stuck in my head Like “Bring Out Your Dead” “Breakfast In Bed”
And experience robs me of hope That she’ll make it back home So I’m stuck on my own I’m stuck on my own
In a room By myself Looks like I’m here with a guy that I judged worse than anyone else
So I pace And I pray And I repeat the mantra’s that might keep me clean for the day
And the songs that she sang in the shower all ring in my ear Like “Wish You Were Here” How I wish you were here.
And experience robs me of hope That you’ll ever return So I breathe and I burn I breathe and I burn
And the church bells are ringing for those who are easy to please And the frost on the ground probably envies the frost on the trees.
And the songs she sang in the shower are stuck in my mind Like “Yesterday’s Wine”, like yesterday’s wine
And experience tells me that I’ll never hear them again Without thinking of them Without thinking of them