There's at least 8 days that don't go by
Without at least a glancing thought
Three in the spring and one in the summer
But all four ended in the fall
Now he sits on the couch with her and reads the paper
The good dishes packed high in the cupboard
Still she's not sure where he goes sometimes
She can't quite ever know what he feels
The ex-wives of Mr. Larson
Feet on the coffee table, dishes in the sink
Whatever you wanted came free
The girl smelled like wine and laughed all the time
Fell in love under a sycamore tree
Or was it dinner that night?
Four years later in another town
Girl across the room, hair down, not looking at you
Tell me when did falling start to feel like
Falling down?
The ex-wives of Mr. Larson
Crystal, and you kissed her
Long enough to make her feel shy
And so good
What you wanted cost a lot more now
Cue the end, begin again, one more try, one last time
It's no good
The ex-wives of Mr. Larson, The ex-wives of Mr. Larson