How We Love by Ingrid Michaelson
I knew a man who was afraid to love,
To lay his heart on the bathroom rug.
He drank his coffee in the same old mug,
And sat in silence ‘til the world fell numb.
Until the day when a girl came by.
She had eyes like the rising tide.
He felt a sharpness deep inside.
The kind of ache that can’t be satisfied.
We hate the rain when it fills up our shoes,
But how we love when it washes our cars.
We love to love when it fills up the room,
But when it leaves oh we’re cursing the stars.
So he turned to the radio,
And he went to a picture show.
Tried to find someone else who knows,
All the hurt that a heart can hold.
She smelled like cinnamon and winter clove,
And sparked like firewood inside a stove.
Wanted to ask her just to sit and stay,
Instead he watched as she walked away.
We hate the rain when it fills up our shoes,
But how we love when it washes our cars.
We love to love when it fills up the room,
But when it leaves oh we’re cursing the stars.
