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Rules to Games

from The Wild by Kris Delmhorst

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lyrics

RULES TO GAMES

I can see that you're sick again, sick of November,
Sick of the city and sick of your hands
Sick to death of the whole thing, sick of just waiting
And all of the wanting, and all of your plans, you're sick of your plans

You can see that I'm tired babe, tired of trying
Tired of dancing that delicate line
Tired of sleeping, tired of waking up
In the grey of the morning that won't even shine, it won't even shine

Is that me, is that you
Arguing over rules
To games we don't even want to play

Can we take it and leave it, make a pile of the heavy
And all of the petty things we didn't mean
Burn it to nothing, make love in the ashes,
Lie down in the river til it all runs clean

Is that me, is that you
Arguing over rules
To games we don't even want to play

credits

from The Wild, released September 22, 2017

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Kris Delmhorst Massachusetts

“Long Day in the Milky Way” is a shimmering compendium of sometimes murmuring, sometimes urgent pop and Americana sounds" Boston Globe

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