I was tired of being drunk.
My face cracked like a joke.
So I swung through here
like a brace of jackrabbits,
with their necks all broke.
I stumbled at the door with my boot,
and I knocked against the jamb.
and I scrabbled at your chest, like a mute,
with my fists of ham.
trying to tell you that I am
telling you I can —
I can
love you again;
love you again.
I'm squinting towards the East.
My faith makes me a dope.
But you can take my hand,
in the darkness, darling,
like a length of rope.
I shaped up overnight, you know,
the day after she died.
when I saw my heart,
and I'll tell you, darling,
it was open wide.
what with telling you I am
telling you I can —
I can
love you again;
love you again.
And it can have no bounds, you know.
It can have no end.
You can take my hand
in the darkness, darling,
when you need a friend.
And it can change in shape or form,
but never change in size.
Well the water, it ran deep, my darling,
where it don't run wide.
The feather of a hawk was bound,
bound around my neck;
a poultice made of fig,
the eager little vultures pecked.
And a verse I read in jest
in Matthew, spoke to me;
said There's a flame that moves
like a low-down pest
and says, You will be free
only, tell me that I can
tell me that I can:
I can love you again;
love you again.
Love you again, love you again.
Love you again, love you again.
Love you again, love you again.
Love you again, love you again.
Love you again, love you...
I was tired of being drunk.
My face cracked like a joke.
So I swung through here
like a brace of jackrabbits,
with their necks all broke.
I stumbled at the door with my boot,
and I knocked against the jamb.
and I scrabbled at your chest, like a mute,
with my fists of ham.
trying to tell you that I am
telling you I can —
I can
love you again;
love you again.
I'm squinting towards the East.
My faith makes me a dope.
But you can take my hand,
in the darkness, darling,
like a length of rope.
I shaped up overnight, you know,
the day after she died.
when I saw my heart,
and I'll tell you, darling,
it was open wide.
what with telling you I am
telling you I can —
I can
love you again;
love you again.
It can have no bounds, you know.
It can have no end.
You can take my hand
in the darkness, darling,
when you need a friend.
And it can change in shape or form,
but never change in size.
Well the water, it ran deep, my darling,
where it don't run wide.
The feather of a hawk was bound,
bound around my neck;
a poultice made of fig,
the eager little vultures pecked.
And a verse I read in jest
in Matthew, spoke to me;
said There's a flame that moves
like a low-down pest
and says, You will be free
only, tell me that I can
tell me that I can:
I can love you again;
love you again.