The Little Things

Why don't we go to a place downtown
Where it feels like you've finally awoken
My hair is windswept and my arms are tired
And the stereo in my car is broken

We don't got much here in this dirty little place
And the problems of the world, I keep finding
But I got music playing in my messed up head
And the light in your eyes, it is blinding

It's the little things that make me want to breathe
Remaining cells in my brain
The nights that I think about dying alone
And the ones that I spend awake

Through the oak trees and the cigarette smoke
I can hear the melancholy in your heart
A simple twist of days can bring two together
And it can just as well break them apart

Suburban propane and overpriced groceries
And the dirt underneath our fingernails
The wind is blowing soot and words of better days
And it washes away with the rain and the hail

It's the little things that make me want to breath
Remaining cells in my brain
The nights that I thin about dying alone
And the ones that I spend awake