Monday, July 26, 2010

Cold Water

My heads a swimming pool
he said he thinks its cool
but he'd say different if he knew better
yeah, he'd say different if his head was wetter

Oh, but you've never been much of swimmer
more a daydreamer, or just a dream weaver
picking flowers, but you won't keep them

And sometimes it's my fault,
I always save the leaves
even when they're all dead

I just wanna move my feet in the heat
shuffle up before I fall back down
stand up before my head hits the ground

but you're chugging your bad luck now
and sometimes good conversation
doesn't mean a goddamned thing

I'm naked, skinny dipping again
and you won't jump in
I'm through with it baby,
after all, it wasn't my idea to swim

No comments:

Post a Comment