I can feel the coming winter
Pressing heavy on my chest
The last of autumn's leaves
Settle down to join the rest
Phone lines carry voices
The north wind carries snow
Across the lonesome miles
Where both wind and whispers blow
This talking got us nowhere
Like two pins in some old map
Marking places we used to be
Before we blew off track
A little south of happy
And just a little north of broke
Everywhere we're going
Are words we've already spoke
Why are we talking backwards
Like we're speaking from the grave
Clinging to each other
Like two souls who can't be saved
Band-aids for bullet wounds
And cures for a broken heart
The plaster that keeps it together
Is the fiction that pulls it apart
It's so quiet 'round the house
Even the ghosts have lost their nerve
It's better than I hoped for
And no less than I deserve
It's hard to say you're sorry
When that's not what you are
The fault it lies in us, my dear
Not in our crossed stars
Not in our crossed stars