Bm
This house is so
F♯m
clean; glass ta
Em
bles spread with new maga
G
zines.
Can I stay for a week? You can kick me out when I break something.
From the guest room I see your garden stretch out, it’s like oceans of green.
The maid calls me for tea and the tiles depict Mediterranean scenes.
Every night in my dreams I lift glass figurines from a shelf in the hall.
Each delicate piece, when I pick it up it just can’t help but fall.
I can’t hold anything, all machines, clothes and cars they just crumble and break
when they touch my hand, cause I feel like I’m holding the hand that made them that way.
But this house is beautiful you could live long lives in it.
Please don’t be so dutiful. No one wants to hear that shit.