Blame the fingers that ran through her hair; now my headnHas some running to do back in bednWhere trees meet the stars on her skinnAnd expectations beg to dig innnShe found me sealed in this jarnPreserving and fermenting the demons that dwell in the barnWhere I said you'd be minenNow alcohol will sum up the time of our lifennSmothered to sleepnIn the glorious 'maybe'nFour a.m., alone between these sheetsnIs the wine in France as great as you dreamt it would be?nIs distance killing you like it's killing me?nAt least at four a.m. the tears feel like homennDrain the weight from your head said a friend, he declarednGuy, maybe she just fell out of carenI don't care if his lips were sweetnThis seems to be a pattern for mennNow I force you to go all alone, and althoughnYou're deserving to be taken backnI just can't act like this means nothing to menBlame my mother for the morals I keep (but weak)nnSmothered to sleepnIn the glorious 'maybe'nFour a.m., alone between these sheetsnIs the wine in France as great as you dreamt it would be?nIs distance killing you like it's killing me?nAt least at four a.m. the tears feel like home