8 A.M.
8 o'clock in the morning
Your voice, soft and broken
Came through my telephone
You said there's a bruise under my eye
And I think I want to die
Can you help me get home?
I asked if you'd eaten
I found you a meeting
We drove to the west side of town
We'd never been there before
And I never loved you more
Than when I caught you a few feet from the ground
My sweater was turquoise
The color of joy
Awkward in a room of grey and brown
I can feel your hand in mine
Hear myself whisper "you'll be fine"
Though I thought, at the time, we'd both drown
When I saw you today
You said you're doing OK
I'm doing the best that I can
You remembered the pattern
On my bright turquoise sweater
You laughed, and I smiled again
It was 8 o'clock in the morning
When your voice, soft and broken
Came through my telephone
There's a bruise under my eye
And I think I want to die
Can you help me?
Your voice, soft and broken
Came through my telephone
You said there's a bruise under my eye
And I think I want to die
Can you help me get home?
I asked if you'd eaten
I found you a meeting
We drove to the west side of town
We'd never been there before
And I never loved you more
Than when I caught you a few feet from the ground
My sweater was turquoise
The color of joy
Awkward in a room of grey and brown
I can feel your hand in mine
Hear myself whisper "you'll be fine"
Though I thought, at the time, we'd both drown
When I saw you today
You said you're doing OK
I'm doing the best that I can
You remembered the pattern
On my bright turquoise sweater
You laughed, and I smiled again
It was 8 o'clock in the morning
When your voice, soft and broken
Came through my telephone
There's a bruise under my eye
And I think I want to die
Can you help me?
Credits
Writer(s): Marian Irene Runk
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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