All Sweet Things

The run-down streets, the civil wars
You don’t go there anymore —
It’s how you used to live
The trampled hopes, the made-up laws
The itchy feet, the pub quiz bores —
It’s so hard to forgive
Weekend slimmers count their chains
Still wanting someone else to blame
You watch them come and go
Empty nightclub escapades
They tell you more than words can say —
That open doors get closed
The empty rooms, the empty house
Someday soon, you’ll work it out —
Still finding the way back home
The schoolyard ghosts, the playtime fears
You take your pills, they disappear —
The people that you’ve known
All sweet things
All sweet things will come again
When the heartbeat slows
When the silence grows