Tiny Glass Houses

There's a crack in my memory,

as if something has gone

and split the foundation

of showdow, of song.

And raddled the windows,

and the tiny regrets.

And the tiny glasses houses

that I tried to forget.

Drink til your sleeping,

I love you that way.

Like we are all babies;

all our beds are unmade.

No memory has molded

enough to forget.

And our tiny glass houses

are not built for us yet.

Takes all of the courage,

and none of the pride,

to stand in the threshold-

to sit down inside.

Where we are not babies;

no we are not new.

And our tiny glass houses

with the beautiful view.

Theres a crack in my memory

where a funeral parade,

rolls through the doorway

that my memory made.

And funeral marches

to its funeral sounds.

And the tiny glass houses

are all tumbling down.

And tiny glass houses,

are all tumbling down.

And tiny glass houses,

are all tumbling down.