I drew a picture of you,
You and your anchor tattoo,
And saw the face that I knew,
Covered in shame.
You drew a bird that was here,
A kind of sweet chanticleer,
But with a terrible fear,
That the cage couldn't tame.

That's how I knew this story would break my heart,
When you wrote it.
That's how I knew this story would break my heart.

So, like a ghost in the snow,
I'm getting ready to go,
'Cause baby, that's all I know,
How to open the door,
And though the exit is crude,
It saves me coming unglued,
For when you're not in the mood,
For the gloves, and the canvas floor.

That's how I knew this story would break my heart,
When you wrote it.
That's how I knew this story would break my heart.

That's how I knew this story would break my heart,
When you wrote it.
That's how I knew this story would break my heart.