[i've been happy before]

i'm standing all alone out in the pouring rain
and though it really isn't like me to complain.
i think i'm getting used to it
i feel happy, and i also feel sad
i've never been here, but somehow i think i have
but i'm getting used to it.

i've never been lost like this
but i wouldn't be happy anywhere else
nobody to tell us what to do - all by ourselves.
don't know how i got here and i don't know why i stay

the poets all around laughing in their graves
must be something that i said.
this place is not like anything i've seen before
the spirits move around, the house have no doors
but i'm getting used to it.

isn't this a fine hello i wish i hadn't seen you go
it's always a bitter pill
the broken mirror's broken still
the letters never made the post, a thousand more i never wrote
and here on dark unfriendly streets, i find the comfort that i seek

and i'm happy, and i've been happy before.

March 28, 2004 - 12:36 pm