An ashtray overfilling with confessions
empty green bottles now collecting rain,
I am ready now to turn out the lights
eyes heavy under the water stains.
This is the time where you say to me
"we weren't meant for this world",
your broken strings still play love songs
but your facade can't remember the words.
One more ride on the gondolier
one more stolen cigarette kiss
every smile covers one of your tragedies
and it's what I've come to miss.
There will never be another
that will sing to me the silhouette blues
early in the sawdust of morning
sweet and out of tune.
I wish that I had a love song for you
if my ink would only comply
I wrap every intimate detail
in a whiskey lullaby.
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