Laughing high, back and low
When small brown eyes begin to flicker
My chest starts to echo.
Should I let the fire touch wicker?
The wicker that’s my start,
My heart shaped like a half empty pitcher,
Should I let you fill part?
Let you bleed and smudge into this picture?
‘Cause in my thoughts and in my songs,
My words right every "wrong",
Words my lips send on homing pigeons,
Tying the shape of us like a ribbon
You’re like the tender warmth of my oven,
You seep into the smell of my kitchen
When I bake blueberry pie,
I ask why,
Why I'm with somebody else?
Why can’t I help myself?
'Cause I know that I want you,
I’m just not sure you do.
I’ve been thinking,
I’ve been sinking,
Cause my heart breaks
My heart breaks
My heart breaks
Each time, each time, each time I make
Each time I make blueberry pie
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