The Calendar Hung Itself…

Does he kiss your eyelids in the morning When you start to raise your head? And does he sing to you, incessantly From the space between your bed and wall? Does he walk around all day at school With his feet inside your shoes? Looking down every few steps To pretend he walks with you Oh, does he know that place below your neck That is your favorite to be touched And does he cry through broken sentences like "I love you far too much" Does he lay awake listening to your breath Worried you smoke too many cigarettes Is he coughing now On a bathroom floor For every speck of tile There's a thousand more You won't ever see But must hold inside yourself Eternally Well, I drug your ghost across the country And we plotted out my death In every city, memories would whisper "Here is where you rest" I was determined in Chicago But I dug my teeth into my knees And I settled for a telephone Sang into your machine "You are my sunshine My only sunshine You are my sunshine My only sunshine And I kissed a girl with a broken jaw That her father gave to her She had eyes bright enough to burn me They reminded me of yours And in a story told, she was a little girl in a red-rouge, sun-bruised field And there were rows of ripe tomatoes, where a secret was concealed And it rose like thunder Clapped under our hands And it stretched for centuries To a diary entry's end Where I wrote "You make me happy Oh, when skies are gray You make me happy Oh, when skies are gray, and gray, and gray" Well, the clock's heart, it hangs inside its open chest With its hands stretched towards the calendar hanging itself But I will not weep For those dying days For all the ones who've left There's a few that stayed And they found me here And pulled me from the grass Where I was laid