28 March 2010

I shouldn't love you

Standing alone, wild and somehow out of place, at home amongst the winds
But maybe you and I just fit into one another, like measuring spoons
...It's not meant to be. But somehow I'd rather fit with you, no matter the tears that follow, than be alone on that hilltop on my own, wondering why you would not stay and dance...

"And I am a writer, a writer of fictions
I am the heart that you call home
And I've written pages upon pages
Trying to rid you from my bones
My bones
My bones..."

1 comment:

tess said...

that is one of my favorite decemberists lyrics ever