I woke up with a war in my head,
An old man's grumble,
And an extra space in the bed,
And if ol' John Prine can't sing the next line,

'Bout something that can make me smile.
Gonna have be content,
To stare at your baby photos 'til it makes some sense,
And were you ever mine anyway?

Speak up as I drop away.
I wrote down what I think on the head of a matchstick,
Wrote it all short and sweet, all that made sense to me,
Burnt six thousand minds, sorry for all times,

I just can't add up the sums to find the damage we've done.
I fell for you like a dog from a tree,
Keep a straight stitched face,
As the ground makes a bed for me,

I keep my eye where I fell, sends no replies.
You can run so long from sadness,
That you're never at home for the fun,
I can't make excuses,

For the short hand abuses,
Thank God it ain't a Sunday night.
I wrote down what I think on the head of a matchstick,
Wrote it all short and sweet, all that made sense to me,

Burnt six thousand minds, sorry for all times,
I just can't add up the sums to find the damage we've done.
I wrote down what I think on the head of a matchstick,
Wrote it all short and sweet, all that made sense to me,

Burning out in the lights, sorry for all times,
I just can't see how it comes,

The damage we've done,
The damage we've done,
The damage we've done.

Writer : TIM ROGERS
Copyright : Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group