She's Walking Out — The Stills

Dead of winter, desolate grey White and silver home Climb the staircase, spiderwalk Into my bed and bones

Can I stand the pain Of all the things I've left behind Caught with butterflies We'll be regretting 'til we die

She's walking out on me

Darker early, four o'clock We'll leave in a balloon Thirteen crows are dragging You and me up to the roof

Blow out all the candles Let the wine flow to your brain No ages, no one changes No one's trying to