The Wild One

Woke up to an empty house The rain that's always coming down It's the same old storm Another empty glass of red You took the sheets right off the bed Now they're on your ghosts You used to tell me that everything Is a little better in the morning But when you're lonesome, and you've got no one to take you home I don't know You took me for a rolling stone And teased me on the telephone Oh Atlanta, you're just a little out of touch I'm building castles out of rags and thread Empty bottles by the riverbed Oh, I'm a lonely son But you're the wild one This old house, it speaks All the floors beneath my feet say they miss you Oh they should be missing me So I'll right down everything you said Pour your ghosts a glass of red And watch your thunderstorms roll across the bed Go on and tell me that every light Is a little brighter in the morning But when you're lonesome and you find someone to take you home I don't know