The act of love . . . is a confession. Selfishness screams aloud, vanity shows off, or else true generosity reveals itself.
Albert Camus
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Gracie
Gracie takes the bottles from the porch where you had left them
There are age-old drinks of wine you never shared.
Drivin' down the motorway, with all the best intentions,
She a picture of perfection with her cut and coloured hair.
But it's you she thinks of in the hours while she's awake
She takes her lipstick from her case to make a smile
You she thinks of when she thinks of her mistakes
Regrets an open road that streches out for miles.
Coffee pots, and bottle tops
And all of this disorder
She soaks the plates in the dishwater till it's cold
Her reflection in the window of the stars around the corner
Walk beside her as she's stridin' down the road
But it's you she thinks of in the hours while she's awake
She takes her lipstick from her case to make a smile
You she thinks of when she thinks of her mistakes
Regrets an open road that streches out for mi-I-I-I-iles
La la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la
you she thinks of in the hours while she's awake
She takes her lipstick from her case to make a smile
You she thinks of when she thinks of her mistakes
Regrets an open road that streches out for miles