Paroles: The Mountain Goats. Milk Song.

when the sky was the color of cream,
and you started leaving messages on my answering machine
telling me that you were way across town and
would be home in a night or two.
i started keeping track of my losses.
there were only one or two i couldn't cover.
and up there against the milk while sky i saw
fleeting vestiges of you.
the way you vanished gradually
has made a bitter man of me.
and the way you vanished gradually,
has made a bitter man of me.

well, the ocean cleaves the rocks real clean.
i dropped my answering machine.
i watched the waves chew it into tiny little pieces of seafoam hissing in the air.
in the balance sheet i'd been keeping in my mind
i entered two hundred kroners to the left of the debit line.
it was what the machine had cost me.
it was a greater loss than i could bear.
i hear the wheels and knobs whirring down to this very day,
long after the ocean has washed it all away.
i heard the train go by last night.
and it's a slow train outta here, alright.
but the way you disappeared in slow degrees,
has made a very patient man of me.
yeah