The lawyer can go to hell.nThe ink's still wet on our wills.nThat's when I told her It's time to start over.nNow there's a house to sell.nnTake this ring of keys, the copies you made for me.nAnd tell me the truth then tell me you love him.nMaybe the scar won't heal.nI'm just a fool.nYou love to be cruel too the gravel under your wheels.nnWithout a sound I'm hiding out on, hiding under ground.nElanore I'm hiding out on your back porch.nWithout a sound I'm hiding out on, hiding under ground.nElanore I'm hiding out on your back porch.nnAs soon as the fog lifts,nAs soon as the smoke drifts,nNearly November then.nAnd is the sweet pines.nThe bells in your windchimes will never be back again.