The Lost Songs of Billy Strayhorn

The lost songs of Billy Strayhorn
Echo in my empty head
The whispers of my own frustration
Tell me I'd be better dead
My limp dick thinks it's Christmas Eve
When you come to share my bed
I dare to dream of might-have-beens
With words that are best unsaid

I lived a life in shallows
I Guess I must have missed the tide
The cold light of Sunday mornings
Leaves my fuck-ups nowhere to hide

The lost songs of Billy Strayhorn
Echo in my empty head
The whispers of my own frustration
Tell me I'd be better dead
My limp dick thinks it's Christmas Eve
When you come to share my bed
I dare to dream of might-have-beens
With words that are best unsaid

I wanted you like cocaine
And when I had you I wanted you again
The cold breath of the guy with the scythe
Disappears for minutes at a time
I kissed you in the afternoon
And I drank you deep when the evening came
I dreamed about you the whole night through
But in the morning it ain't ever the same.

I lived a life in shallows
I Guess I must have missed the tide
In the light of Sunday mornings
My broken dreams got nowhere to hide

The lost songs of Billy Strayhorn
Echo in my empty head
The whispers of my own frustration
Tell me I'd be better dead
My limp dick thinks it's Christmas Eve
When you come to share my bed
I dare to dream of might-have-beens
With words that are best unsaid