Scripts

When you call me crying, babe
And I can’t understand a word through the phone
You hang up and say «I'm sorry» for
Feeling to old for your bones
You don’t have to apologize
Do you know the feeling you get behind your eyes
Right before you’re about to cry?
Well I’ve felt that every day of my life
One day we’ll have to fall asleep far from our Mother’s beds
And forget all of the words that our Fathers have said
But like a pebble I will never move unless you pick me up yourself
Like a glass of water sitting on a corner desk
Sitting stagnant 'til a tremor causes unrest
I’ll be the angel to your devil, make a heaven out of your hell
Morning’s pink, bedtime’s blue
See you’ve got your scripts but I got mine too
Saw a doctor, he prescribed me
Crazy about you
One day we’ll have to fall asleep far from our Mother’s beds
And forget all of the words that our Fathers have said
But like a pebble I will never move unless you pick me up yourself
Like a glass of water sitting on a corner desk
Sitting stagnant 'til a tremor causes unrest
I’ll be the angel to your devil, make a heaven out of your hell