All of These Years

Hair so blonde it's nearly white Like the siding on the house That's faded outside The room too full of morning light You can't crawl back in bed and cry, Not 'til tonight The warm summer sky splitting open wide While all of the years got stuffed back inside In a drawer labeled "black hole" The evidence vanishes to where god knows And the papers were signed I'm sure that he was waving But I don't have that scene Available for playing And all of these years of feeling sorry For something But not sure what And some sort of half-buried truth The smell of fermentation And half-rotted fruit The heavy weight of expectation That fell on all of us The burden of unshakeable proof The papers were signed I'm sure that he was waving But I don't have that scene Available for playing And all these years of feeling sorry For something But not sure what All of these years I'm sorry But not sure why