Ain't it getting a little late for your roundabout ways
I've worn the prints from my hands
Drips become drops, and drops become stains
If you don't clean 'em up, clean 'em up right away

In the living room corner thinking, oh Lord
It's been over seventeen months
And now I'm grazing the doorknob, tasting lost meals on
The tip of her, the tip of her tongue

Thinking, honey, I've changed
It just ain't apparent

The sidewalk is watching, hidden under stale leaves that
Tear with each sigh of the wind
You were never one to blindly believe
In anything, in anyone but me

And it's a hell of a shame
That you had to bear it

You'd come running out, running out, without your mother's scars in my dreams
You'd come running out, running out, without your Southern scent in my dreams
You'd come running out, running out, without your sullen brow in my dreams
You'd come running out, running out, only to miss me, dear, mmhmm

Say what you want
Maybe tact's overrated


Lyrics submitted by username72

Nevers song meanings
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