The lawyer can go to hell.
The ink's still wet on our wills.
That's when I told her "It's time to start over."
Now there's a house to sell.
Take this ring of keys, the copies you made for me.
And tell me the truth then tell me you love him.
Maybe the scar won't heal.
I'm just a fool.
You love to be cruel too the gravel under your wheels.
Without a sound I'm hiding out on, hiding under ground.
Elanore I'm hiding out on your back porch.
Without a sound I'm hiding out on, hiding under ground.
Elanore I'm hiding out on your back porch.
As soon as the fog lifts,
As soon as the smoke drifts,
Nearly November then.
And is the sweet pines.
The bells in your windchimes will never be back again.