Not one motion of her gesture could I forget
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The prettiest bag lady I ever met
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Pushing her cart in the rain
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Then gathering plastic and glass
|
She watched the day pass
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Not hour by hour
|
But pain by pain
|
If I was a basket filled with holes
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Then she was the sand I tried to hold
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And ran out behind me
|
As I swung with some invisible hands
|
|
I stopped believing, you start to move
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She was like wine turned to water then turned back to wine
|
I stopped my leaving and the better man bloomed
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And you can pour us out and we won't mind
|
|
I was dead, then alive
|
She was like wine turned to water and turned back to wine
|
You can pour us out, we won't mind
|
A scratch around the mouth of the glass
|
My life is no longer mine
|
|
If you're still looking for a blanket
|
Sweetie, I'm sorry, I'm no sort of fabric
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But if you need a tailor
|
Then take your torn shirt, and stumble up my stairs
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And mumble your pitiful prayers
|
And in your tangled night's sleep, our midnight needles go to work
|
Until all comfort and fear flows in one river
|
Down on the shelf by the mirror where you see yourself whole
|
And it makes you shiver
|
|
I stopped believing, you start to move
|
She was like wine turned to water then turned back to wine
|
I stopped my leaving and the better man bloomed
|
And you can pour us out and we won't mind
|
|
I was dead, then alive
|
She was like wine turned to water and turned back to wine
|
You can pour us out, we won't mind
|
A scratch around the mouth of the glass
|
My life is no longer mine
|
|
Our lives are not our own
|
Even the wind lays still
|
Our essence was fire and cold
|
And movement, movement
|
If they ask you for a sign of the Father
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Tell them it's movement, movement and repose
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|
-----------------
|
Paper Hanger
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Mewithoutyou (Me Without You) |