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lyrics

No more painted eyes -
you can't hide from me.
I know you're still in pain.
The nightclubs won't take that away,
they never did.
So, wash that mask off your face
and tell me honestly:
Have I damaged you so bad
that I can never come back?

'Cause I'm here right now,
back in the house, on our old
queen bed as you slip off your dress.
It's all so familiar, like kissing cousins;
the stepped-on wife, the prodigal husband.
You stumbled home late
to find me on your porch -
your red wine cheeks drained white
like you'd seen a ghost.

The Sun hung solemn at noon
as you stormed through our bedroom.
"It's not OUR bedroom!" you cried,
"You gave that up when you chose
those other beds to lie in.
And lie you did - how'd you weasel
your way back into me? No,
you can't come back. I hate
myself when you're around."

But I'm here right now, back in
the house, as you cuss me out
in that yellow nightgown I bought
for you at that shop in St. Paul.
(You pulled me in the dressing room
to show it off.) It must have been
stuffed in the back of your drawer;
so why'd you decide to wear that
if I can't come back?

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Tim Kasher Los Angeles, California

Cursive / The Good Life / Me. Fourth solo album, Middling Age, out in April 2022 on 15 Passenger Records!

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