“Spring and Thompson on the first of May is horrible.
We hid in catacombs. So now I’m sleeping next to mousetraps,
in a bed of all our clothes, while I hope that she won’t come home.
It was easier to lock the doors and kill the phones than to show my skin,
because the hardest thing is never to repent for someone else,
it’s letting people in.
Well you can come inside, unlock the door, take off your shoes.
But this might take all night,
to explain to you I would have walked out those sliding doors,
but the timing never seemed right.
When your helicopter came and tried to lift me out,
I put its rope around my neck.
And after that you didn’t bother with the airlift or the rescue
- you knew just what to expect.”
I really just can’t handle this song. It makes me feel such a profound…meloncholy? Not quite the right word, but getting there.