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http://www.eemp3.com/audiofile/c2c63769b2a5318990d73ea91ea7e161.mp3
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I came home last Sunday morning
Met my tension in the doorway
I came home to you
With my ego in a bag
But unlike my dirty laundry
It can’t be washed or ironed out
Or tucked away
So I’ll lock the door
And drift off to that place
Not even you can reach med here
I’m on my own
Down for the count
But I’ll be on my feet again someday
Then I’ll be riding with the one I call my love
There’s a flame, I feel it burning
In the palm of my hands
Every time I try to see myself through your eyes
And in the dark I keep on reaching
For your comfort and your love
For your love
Still I know that there’s nothing you can do
Not even you can reach me here
I’m on my own
Down for the count
But I’ll be on my feet again someday
Then I’ll be riding with the one I call my love
I could sleep, but still be tired
I could eat, but still feel hungry
Have a drink, but I know that bottle is a curse
When the only thing that’s working
Is to drift off to that place
To that place
‘Cos I know I’ll be on my feet someday
And I’ll be riding with the one I call my love
Down for the count
But I won’t stay to hear the count of ten
I’ll be back up again by then
I’ll try to find my way by then
Maybe there’s a time for us again - my love