Don’t Understand
Tamara Lindeman
I slept on couches of other people's houses
Overwhelmed in borrowed sheets
I went through their records, they had piles of bills and letters
All these photographs of people I'd never meet
Laid out in the light, shirt on my eyes
And I try, but I know I won't sleep
And I don't understand anything that has happened to me
Like I'm telling a friend, and I don't even believe me
Where had I put it now? Wherе had I hidden the proof?
I looked down at my hands linеd with nothing but the ways I had moved
And in waking and in sleeping, everything irretrievably new
And I go out for my meals and I meet up for coffee
Could be how it feels irreversibly free
