suzanne crow
i woke up this morning and now i understand 
what it means to give your love to just one man 
afraid of feeling nothing no bees or butterflies 
my head is full of voices and my house is full of lies
i found you standing there when i was seventeen 
now i'm thirty-two and i can't remember what i'd seen in you 
now i'm reading romance novels and dreaming of yesterday 
and everything i wanted is now driving me away
i woke this morning to the sound of breaking hearts 
mine is full of questions and it's tearing yours apart.
:::
i read your book and i find it strange 
that i know that girl and i know her world a little too well 
and i didn't know by giving my hand 
that i would be written down sliced around passed down 
among stranger's hands 
you carry a pen and a paper and no time and no words you waste 
oh you're a voyeur, the worst kind of thief 
to take what happened to us 
to write down everything that went on between you and me 
and what do i get . do i get revenge 
while you lay it all out without any doubt 
sometimes it goes 
sometimes we come 
to learn by mistake that the love once made 
can't be undone 
('home' & 'the book'')