Invite Me In

You went to France and bought me a wallet
 Now you won't absolve it, I'm indebted
 Now what were you saying with that kid's book you laid on me
 When I turned thirty, called People Get Mad
 But in me, I can't be the high and mighty
 Alone, unrested, no light to guide me
 You loved me back then, but you will not invite me in again
 We took a walk, seventy city blocks
 Held hands, burned up the clock, felt like no time at all
 You saw something in a window, stepped inside and I watched you go
 But nothing's still nothing no matter how you divide
 Now time is to batting like pain is to memory
 My words all come back saying why did you send me
 You heard me back then, but you will never hear me out again
 Baby, I should know when I'm drinking
 Everything that I'm thinking, everything that I am
 The blistering wind takes the skin right off me
 But it's just me and coffee in the morning again
 Way deep inside me is a room full of butterflies
 Frantically flying in an old wing of the museum
 Deep blue and orange like the sunrise that morning
 With you breathing beside me and the whine of the dogs
 Sorry's a word without grace or vision
 Pacing around like a crow or a pigeon
 You threw more than crumbs, but you will not invite me in again