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Met a boy from Ohio;
who through the cold winter burned me alive,
just like my ex-man used to.
When Iâd howl through the eyes at his window;
watch his lamp flicker,
wait to see him bring a her home with him.
Iâd stay through the night âtil the sun showed up.
But thatâs all springs behind.
Yet there are times, there are times,
I get uneasy in the lamplight.
Before itâs even morning,
we make toward Vermont.
Iâm couped in the backseat,
furthermore the northeast.
Like birds we sing of our old coats and rings,
when we were separate things.
Then to the third floor to rest our wings.
And the past dies off in the dark.
There are times, there are times,
I get uneasy in the lamplight.
I picture leavin',
but wake and havenât yet.
Just now a song comes on I used to listen to out West.
Oh Iâd play it like a candle lit,
not just to fill the air,
but to make it oh so sacred instead.
The memory is like a bulb bursting above my head.
Above my head.
There are times, these are times,
I am nearing toward the lamplight.