I threw the first stone,
I broke the door,
and someone got stuck inside
and fell to the floor.
And I drove for hours,
landlocked and blank,
hills all around me with no one to thank.
And when I got back here,
climbed up my tree,
and nobody saw me,
I watched them so carefully.
Trapped like mosquitoes
fucking blood from your arms,
crushed so serenely without an alarm.
But you still walked me back
to the room when it was cold
and we were walking crooked.
I kept the copies,
I kept receipts,
I kept the blisters
on the bottom of my feet.
Well, I'm your assistant,
or maybe you're mine,
but either way you see it,
we won't make a dime.
Because we don't want it easy,
no, we don't like the woods.
We don't take precaution
when we know that we should.
But if we both just admit it,
that we both make mistakes,
then I think we can handle
all the change and the headaches.
But you still got me out,
when you kicked me twice
and took the keys and put them in my hands.
There's always something you're waiting on.
But if you just go now,
you can leave,
you can just go free.
I fell asleep,
accidentally so,
and I didn't wake up
’til an hour ago.
So I stood in my window,
still half-asleep,
with the stone in my hand,
the criticisms I keep.
I can't write conclusions,
they never make sense,
‘cause I can't end the story
when I'm still on the fence.
So I threw the last stone
and that set me free,
so I wrote no conclusion
and came down from my tree.
