The Chain

Written by
Ingrid Michaelson

the sky looks pissed
the wind talks back
my bones are shifting in my skin
and you, my love, are gone

my room feels wrong
the bed won't fit
i cannot seem to operate
and you, my love, are gone

so glide away on soapy heels
and promise not to promise anymore
and if you come around again
then i will take, then i will take the chain from off the door

i'll never say that i'll never love
but i don't say a lot of things
and you, my love, are gone

so glide away on soapy heels
and promise not to promise anymore
and if you come around again
then i will take the chain from off the door

© 2015 Ingrid Michaelson. All Rights Reserved.