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A man stands in the doorway like a small child
Angry fists
She lies in her bed her head buried in her pillow
She stares at the moon
He speaks to her all the words she's heard too many times before
And pretty soon she just lets his voice fade away
She thinks
This was a gradual steel frost that started with cold feet
And ended with numb hearts
It was once satisfying sex, but now no longer is
It was once filled with all the possibilities of new china or old stone
But now it's exaggerated and water-logged
No longer what these hands had intended and still I cry in my sleep
He always said I was too sensitive
But I say, least I never meant to make him cry
Least I never meant to make him hurt that way
No, I never meant to make him cry
I never meant to make hurt that way
Yes it's true, I 'm too sensitive but
He takes pleasure in my pain
Yes it's true, I 'm too sensitive but
He takes pleasure in my pain
And the unheard hours they fly by, she goes to the window
Puts on a nightgown and brushes her hair
He's already asleep by the time she goes to lay back down
She thinks, my god, what I am doing here
My bones have grown tired of his hunger, of his grey eyes
And I feel that if I were to stay one more night here I 'd die, or explode, or worse yet, just fade away
And there've been days so dark when I felt like august and that I soon too would turn to fall
He always said I was too sensitive
If I dared to care so much, the world could kill me that way
I wonder if he's only half alive or if he simply has always lacked such subtlety
But I say, at least I never meant to make him cry
At least I never meant to make him hurt this way
No, I never meant to make him cry
I never meant to make him hurt this way
Yes it's true, I 'm too sensitive but
He takes pleasure in my pain
Yes it's true, I 'm too sensitive but
He takes pleasure in my pain
She gets out of bed and looks at her feet as though they were the wings for her freedom
She gets up and goes to the drawer
It's a moment in which anything can happen
As she gets out some clothing, puts them in a bag
And leaves him sleeping while she heads for the door
Gone
Gone
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“I wrote this quite a while ago, when I was probably 18. I’ve always liked this song but never found the right place for it. I recorded it acoustic at my home studio and then I had a friend add all those evocative strings to it. This added such a rich texture and ambience to it. It’s a very long song with no chorus. Producing that type of song can be difficult, but hopefully the storytelling is intriguing enough that people keep listening.” — Picking Up the Pieces Press Release
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