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I woke up last Sunday morning, tossing and turning

only to realize that you've been gone for awhile


I went through a few of your things, you could always play my heartstrings

like a sculptor wields his blade through stone


I guess those rusty Cortez sunsets were deeper than my love

I must of been sedated tell me when did life get so damn complicated

that you headed to Durango


Last night I heard the phone ring, you started saying the same God damn things

I know I have this gift of feeding scripted words in your mouth


Motus Music 2006