I walked through the door with you, the air was cold,
But something 'bout it felt like home somehow and I
Left my scarf there at your sister's house,
And you still got it in your drawer even now.
Oh, your sweet disposition and my wide-eyed gaze.
The drought was the very worst, ah ah
When the flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst
It was months, and months of back and forth, ah ah
You're still all over me like a wine-stained dress I can't wear anymore
Hung my head, as I lost the war, and the sky turned black like a perfect storm