| Shuffling through the morning |
| Bare-feet down the hall |
| I must’ve left the windows open |
| Cuz dear you don’t belong here… at all |
| You were bluer than the bluebirds |
| I was hardly awake |
| And you looked up from your perch on my chair back |
| I thought «Isn't this so strange? |
| So strange…» |
| You sang baby we’re all running from the same things |
| You sang baby we’re all running from the same things |
| Broken hearts, broken homes, the tired, and the loneliness |
| Broken hearts, broken homes, the tired and the lonely, loneliness |
| And you stayed until the day sighed |
| Itself back to sleep |
| And I remember it exactly |
| You were all feathers and a heartbeat |
| Feathers and a heartbeat |
| You sang baby we’re all running from the same things |
| You sang baby we’re all running from the same things |
| Broken hearts, broken homes, the past, and the loneliness |
| Broken hearts, broken homes, the past and the lonely, loneliness |
| Now I leave every door open |
| Every window every shade |
| In the hopes that little ghost bird |
| Maybe he will come back… someday |
| He sang baby we’re all running from the same things |
| He sang baby we’re all running from the same things |
| Broken hearts, broken homes, the tired, and the loneliness |
| Broken hearts, broken homes, the tired and the lonely, loneliness. |