[Spoken Intro]
This next song is called "Pain Is Cold Water". I wrote this song right here in Watertown, Massachusetts
[Verse 1]
I'm the tall glass of water you lost in your kitchen
I'm casually cruel like a senior prediction
Most likely to leave at the sign of a fork in the road
You look just like your father as the news was delivered
Cut a hole in my heart that bled into my liver
I miss being alone when it didn't mean being alone
[Verse 2]
And, if love was contagious, I might be immune to it
Pain's like cold water, your brain just gets used to it
Try to keep swimming, keep Dad's good word in my mouth
But they're fighting like dogs in the town across the river
Over a brand-new crosswalk that won't matter come winter
Lord, sometimes folks just need something to be angry about
What're you angry about?
[Chorus]
I ain't bitter 'bout much these days
In some ways, I'm damn lucky to be here
Oh, where the miners stayed in them good old days
Yes, real men used to sleep here
Oh, those roadside graves where my friends still lay in
I walk by just to weep here
They say killing time ain't a homicide
But a prayer for a leap year
This next song is called "Pain Is Cold Water". I wrote this song right here in Watertown, Massachusetts
[Verse 1]
I'm the tall glass of water you lost in your kitchen
I'm casually cruel like a senior prediction
Most likely to leave at the sign of a fork in the road
You look just like your father as the news was delivered
Cut a hole in my heart that bled into my liver
I miss being alone when it didn't mean being alone
[Verse 2]
And, if love was contagious, I might be immune to it
Pain's like cold water, your brain just gets used to it
Try to keep swimming, keep Dad's good word in my mouth
But they're fighting like dogs in the town across the river
Over a brand-new crosswalk that won't matter come winter
Lord, sometimes folks just need something to be angry about
What're you angry about?
[Chorus]
I ain't bitter 'bout much these days
In some ways, I'm damn lucky to be here
Oh, where the miners stayed in them good old days
Yes, real men used to sleep here
Oh, those roadside graves where my friends still lay in
I walk by just to weep here
They say killing time ain't a homicide
But a prayer for a leap year
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