Turpentine to an Open Wound

Back in the old days,
I had my own ways
of loving you.
They were turpentine to
an open wound
that I was for you
in November,
and now it's June

The reverend, he, his family were gathered there
You had paint hiding in your hair
I was standing in your kitchen door
What have I come around for?

To say that the wars we wage
are all children's games
We are boys and girls
wearing colanders and capes
In these dreadful days
my head is that place
where you love me
and branches are swords
I'll use them here to fight this war

Now these are peaceful days,
and I am at war with ways
of loving you
I'll put a pen to paper to
try and explain to you
what eight thousand miles can do
when there are a hundred more
between me and you

Darling, you don't write me of your love anymore
I'm sleeping on this davenport
When guests arrive, I will be on the floor
What have I even come home for?

To say that the wars we wage
are all children's games
We are boys and girls
wearing colanders and capes
In these dreadful days
my head is that place
where you love me
and branches are swords

Darling, I love and want you desperately
Still more I need that returned to me
So in truth, honestly, frankly as can be,
do or don't you want to marry me?
I'll wait as long as need be