letra de suitcases - sweetheart
suitcases
[verse 1: sweetheartz]
ooh, ooh
she sits in suitcases late at night
thinking of where he is
traveling’s fine if you find your way home
she sits in suitcases late at night
thinking of where he is
traveling’s fine if you find your way home
here’s hoping he’ll find his
summer’s over, time for flight
palm on the gl-ss at the end of the night
two lover’s severed only by distance
through time and tears, march in resistance
sound seems to carry but the looks remain
and so much is lost, everything but the pain
because only miles keep torn lovers apart
mountains, road, and desert, mapped topography of heart
i went into an antique shop today to feel
the building itself creaked with the past in certain corners
and there were some i dare not enter or linger
i felt a chill overwhelm me
i knew not who it was in the downstairs
separated antique desks
a doll made from rags sat hauntingly on a rocking chair
seven dollars now
but to someone once she was hope
i pull a dusty seat out and touch the relics on an old writing desk
box labeled “master writing set: pens for artists.”
the mind begins to wander when it’s given space to breathe
new p-ssions rush to enter, and the ache begins to leave
they wonder, “is it the answer, to just move on and pray?”
end of day nothing stays, break away and break away
a lute, wooden and probably cracked
a fifth grade spelling book who’s previous owner has met the earth
photographs, the old ones on cardboard paper
just faded faces on white emptiness
i page them one by one over
looking carefully, but not long at each face unknown
and they always will be
but on the backs of some
in addition to the printer
some of the photos had scribbled in pencil names
i wonder, whom bothered?
i wonder who’d care?
can it be? (more scribble i couldn’t make out.)
“died – 33. burned.”
burned, burned
who will it be?
am i a faded face on a forgotten photograph?
who will care to write my name?
traveling through memories choosing the best
so in here mind tonight he’s with her
and in her suitcase she can rest
and in her suitcase she can rest
i have an uncontrollabe urge to be empty, to release my self
and then reach drunken stupor on the secrets of years
i leave the desk i do not push in the chair
some nights she’ll dream he’s come home
found himself and grown
but in his arms still room for her
absence makes the heart grow fonder
(break)
although, i am only in a sweater as i stare back to my car
i am not cold, i am dry, and slow thoughts
each priced in string and pen
pulse patiently for their turn in evaluation
the closer i got to my car, my sweater thinned and i realized the weather
but for the rest of the day i smelled of old
the closer i got to my car, my sweater thinned and i realized the weather
but for the rest of the day
i smelled of old
i smelled of old
i smelled of old
ooh, ooh
she sits in suitcases late at night
thinking of where he is
traveling’s fine if you find your way home
she sits in suitcases late at night
thinking of where he is
traveling’s fine if you find your way home
here’s hoping he’ll find his
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