
Stood Their Singing “Music a Lady Leaves To” is all scratched, is in ruins, but it was never easy to listen to anyway, never easy to leave to anyway. I don’t remember where to buy them, The cigarettes that go out when I need them most And come back in when I wanna be in love, and then They just sleep the week in my coat. Go down to the Whiskeytown to feel O.K. And fuel up on not-minding-the-wait And a different shade of blue for each day And the three sisters who sing Saturdays And I think How much I wish for any of it, Even the worst bit, Because by now it’s gone to shit; There’s not even anything to fix. I tune into the girls like a radio This one is the ammo This one is the halo And This one cried “love me” all the way home. I stood their singing for a little bit Then their voices went out like cigarettes. It’s her own chords a lady leaves to, but isn’t it A different shade of blue sticks in her head All the way home All the way home. Carbon