Treetops spinning at the outskirts of my vision
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In the back yard of a stranger on the edges of my mind
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I lay broken with my belly up to heaven, I guess
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Drinking hard for seven days can turn your blue eyes blind
|
|
Held that tragic destiny
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Like a puppet on my knee
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Blurred the line 'tween him and me
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And nearly lost my soul
|
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'till I realized I could
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Get that puppet, get him good
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I used that doll for kindling wood
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To warm me from the cold
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Chorus:
|
Oh my Dylan Thomas days are finally over
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I'm through with all those self-destructive ways
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And though I ain't exactly clean at least I'm sober
|
I made it through my Dylan Thomas days
|
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Lord have mercy, it's a sunny, Sunday morning
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And I am not in a coma and there's nothing I regret
|
I did not wake up thirsty or to the sound of my own snoring
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And the not so faint aroma of tequila on my breath
|
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What a concept, can it be?
|
I feel a little like Dorothy
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When she woke up and found that she
|
Was safe in her own bed
|
|
But oh that nightmare sure seemed true
|
And you were there and you were too
|
I don't know how I made it through
|
Thought sure I'd end up dead
|
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Chorus
|
|
God rest his soul, and his broken heart
|
"Time has ticked a heaven 'round the stars."
|
Watch over me now, wherever you are
|
Probably drinking whiskey in the Sweet Hereafter Bar
|
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There's angels in the atmosphere
|
Crying sympathetic tears
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To wash away our doubts and fears
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And help us on our way
|
|
I used to run from their concern
|
Light the bridge and watch it burn
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I took a while, at last I learned
|
That ain't the only way . . .
|
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Chorus
|
|
-----------------
|
Dylan Thomas Days
|
| The Gathering Field |
