A Song

Well, I’m somewhere else and I didn’t feel me leaving,
I don’t remember making that choice
I hate the goodbyes, and the silence between
And the pictures I try not to paint.
Is there somebody else, that you haven’t met
That’s holding your hand when I’m gone?
‘Cos I swear I’m alone, and your smell’s in my skin
I’m counting the hours ‘til I’m home,
Home with you.

I’ll hold the shadows, when I can’t hold you
And I’ll not keep warm, but I’ll see the night through.
Sheets without joy, without wrinkles and fights
Tears before bed when I turn off the lights,
I miss you and dreaming’s the closest I’ve found
To soothing the pain and drowning the sound
Of your lips on hers and your hands in her hair
The pictures I paint when I can’t be there.

He’s charming and tall and he told me a joke,
And I laughed like I should when he stopped.
So I’m whiling the hours away, nicely dressed,
Stoking the fire, playing with the rest.
His hand on my arm,
I flinch, but stand still – it’s wrong,
but I’m human and cold.
It hurts to be under this stranger’s blue eyes
I’m frightened I’m too weak to leave,
Should I play along a good night kiss
And take relief in some new arms?
Or be the woman I’m desperate to be,
For you.

I’ll hold the shadows, when I can’t hold you
And I’ll not keep warm, but I’ll see the night through.
Sheets without joy, without wrinkles and fights
Tears before bed when I turn off the lights,
I miss you and dreaming’s the closest I’ve found
To soothing the pain and drowning the sound
Of your lips on hers and your hands in her hair
The pictures I paint when I can’t be there.