Lyrics

POSTCARDS:

I?ve got a feeling that I can?t quell?
I know it well?
It?s called bleeding.
But look at how far I have come?
At least I bleed, I?m not numb.
It?s called conceding.

I lit a fire in my heart?
Burned baggage and parts of you that are worth leaving.
I?m taking pieces that I have left?
I?m not bereft?
It?s called healing.

Light shines through blinds onto my bed.
I know it?s the last time that I?ll see it shine just so.
I have got a wanderer?s heart?I need new fuel for my art.
I said I?m ready to go.

I?m looking for the next best thing.
What choice do I have when I always banked on you?
I see now there?s a next best thing
That becomes the best thing.

I?ve got a ticket in my hand.
I?ve got no plans; I?ve got no prospects,
Except the prospect that is me and how good I can be.
See, I?m a work in progress.

The ticket?s marked anywhere but here,
Which is where my mind has been lately anyway.
Come now, babe, don?t cry for me, I?ll send postcards from the sea
That say ?I wish you were here.?