The desert's cold tonight, the moon hangs high above me
You grip my pillow tight and hum along while I sing
You keep painting pictures, I keep writing songs
About how I won't miss her when I come back home
They say the writings on the wall
But you keep painting pictures, painting pictures
All night long
The City in the Pines, Hotel Monte Vista
I count the highway miles to drown out the distance
The blood spilled on your canvas, my words hang from a wire
Flowers left suspended for another life.
They say the writings on the wall
But you keep painting pictures, painting pictures
All night long
This westward wind keeps blowing
Our words into the sky
Split tongues leave words unspoken
And I don't ask why
We walk down San Francisco, your hand locked tight in mine
You're quoting Casablanca, I stumble through my lines
"Here's looking at you kid," the gin is running low
I stare into the sunset thinking thoughts you'll never know
They say the writings on the wall
But you keep painting pictures, painting pictures
All night long
Fiction Running 