Wednesday - Drive-By Truckers

There was something in the envelope she passed him

That weighed more to him than paper and some ink

It had a hint of something darker and a hint of something sweet

And a little extra glue right on the tip

There was something in the pain that shot right through him

As he climbed up to the place he called his home

They say every man’s house should be his palace

But his castle stank of cat shit and alone

So he opened it and found a faded picture

Of a girl he’s never met, but somehow seen

Like a memory of a dream from early childhood

Like a virgin’s idea of release

She said «I can bend my arms until they’re backward

«But you can’t bend your will to take in mine

«And I could hold my breath until next Wednesday

«And still be doing fine»

He was sad in ways that he couldn’t tell her

Though she tried to make his sadness all her own

He couldn’t see the use in spreading sadness

So he took his dark depression and went home

She saw things in him that he never bargained

But it wasn’t enough to save either one of them

Because she took all that sadness one step further

And left him all alone to face the end