There Are Maybe Ten or Twelve

There are maybe ten or twelve

Things I could teach you

After that, well, I think you're on your own

And that wasn't the opening line

It was the tenth or the twelfth

Make of that what you will

Make of that what you will

Once there was a haunted loop

Of your deep, fallen tears

A forehead resting on a record shelf

Amid moving boxes stacked

I'm still waiting for the right words

Make of that what you will

Make of that what you will

And the eyes they were

A color I can't remember

Which says more than the first two verses

And it is the devil you know

That will slam the door harder

Make of that what you will

Make of that what you will

Make of that what you will

Make of that what you will