The days are long
Please don’t go
I can’t trust myself to be alone
The sun beats down
My wrists burn on the stove
In this lonely seventy-eighth motorhome
I stay here, alone inside
With the Sunday dinner and the summertime flies
Motorcycles rev outside
From the backyard screen
I hear them drive off into the night
But I know
If I told him I’d die here
If I stay
He would hold me in his arms
And he’d love it that way
Sad teddy bears on the lawn outside
Clean off the mud, hang them up out to dry
Try to sleep, to pass the time by
But the dogs in the yard keep me up
With their cries in the ni--ight
But I know
If I told him I’d die here
If I stay
He would hold me in his arms
And he’d love it that way
The days are long
Please don’t go
I can’t trust myself
To be alone
It all goes dark
My bangs long overgrown
In this lonely seventy-eighth motorhome