Leftmore - Paint

The birds sit on telephone lines making abacus beads
And they've counting up the miles logged on city side streets
They've been shifting down the wires to make room for more feet
Crows lining up to talk about who they got to meet

I've been having all these dreams that start when I blink
Where you'll drop this burden to the ground, and lift your hands to my face
And, I'll make some mention of my beard marking the days
You'll just say something like, you don't feel like it's that long

So, paint me your fool
I'd be happy to happy to hear you're painting again
And I'll sit real still
And try to keep on smiling

I've been picking up to speed, and I've been trying to call this home
But all the crosses keep me worried along the side of the road
They've been rapping at my windows and they're knocking at my doors
Ghosts sitting in the fog just trying to bum a smoke

And, I've been getting tired, but I can't seem to find my bed
That spot that you once laid in is just a cold, hard grave instead
So, I'm glad that I'm not sleeping, but I need to find some rest
The words turning in my mind are driving me out of my head

So, paint me your fool
I'd be happy to happy to hear you're painting again
And I'll sit real still
And try to keep on smiling for you

But like a shotgun spray
The birds flew away!
Now, I've got nothing to count on, and you
You've got nothing, you've got nothing to say

Written by:
Joseph Ziegler

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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