I know a girl with cuts on her legs I think that she hates the way she was made But we never spoke of why they were there I just squeezed them and kissed them Until we both felt a bit better
And now I've returned to the town where she dwells That cold lonely cabin her grandfather built I suppose that's where she's imprisoned herself To write all those words she's too scared to tell Those sad, short stories of a girl curled up in her shell
Night and day she tends to her bar She pours the drinks, they pour out their hearts All that sorrow and alcohol weighs hard on her thoughts So she writes them down She loves them all
And when we'd make love, she'd stare in my eyes I swore we had met a thousand times Thousands of lives Thousands of nights She's written of it a thousand times
Night and day she tends to her bar She pours me a drink for my parched heart All my sorrow's in alcohol She holds up the cup to my cracked lips For a kiss