Lyrics:

In a motel room in Colorado Springs
We learned what impatience brings
To women who fool around
That summer was a strung-out mess
And you swore to God you had the perfect fix
And a plan to get us out

You said, \'Don't you turn around
Leave your strings at the door
And just walk out.\'

I sat in the living room
And watched your girlfriend pack her things
To move away from you
Our record: Buffy Sainte-Marie
And we held hands and cried
'Til we couldn't see anything

You said, \'Don't you turn around
You wouldn't like what you found here anyhow.\'

So I took a red-eye from the Bay
Watched you watch the taxi pull away
From Mission Street
The next time we would meet
Would be a train wreck of nerves and sexless sleep
Mistakes made, empty hymns

I said, \'Don't you make a sound
Nothing's careful in desire
Especially now.\'

There were no accidents;
We asked for this
But the South is not out West
There's nothing gentle about
Our stomachs full of gin
We are alive, and we have no regrets

In a farmhouse in the Piedmont Hills
We learned what impatience wills
To women who fool around
If thievery has a voice to to sing
It's the choice and sound of moving hands
Over social wedding rings

I said, \'Don't you turn around
Leave your strings at the door
And just walk out.\'