we took a weekend, drove to provo.
the snow was white and fluffy.
but a weekend in utah won't fix what's wrong with us.
the gray sky was vast and real cryptic above me.
i wanted you to love me like you used to do.
we took two weeks in the bahamas.
went out dancing every night.
tried to fight the creeping sense of dread with temporal things.
most of the time i guess i felt alright.
but i wanted you to love me like you used to do.
but you cannot run
and you cannot hide,
from the wreck we've made of our house,
and from the mess inside.
we went down to new orleans
one weekend in the spring.
looked hard for what we'd lost.
it was painful to admit it, but we couldn't find a thing.
i wanted you to love me like you used to do.
we went to new york city in september.
took the train out of manhattan to the grand army stop.
found that bench we'd sat together on a thousand years ago
when i felt such love for you i thought my heart was gonna pop.
i wanted you to love me like you used to do.
but i cannot run.
and i can't hide.
from the wreck we've made of our house.
from the mess inside.
