Rustwood Chimes

(ahhhh) The screen door’s slamming to an empty room

The porch light’s fighting

with the harvest moon

I can still hear the sound of the things you said

Spinning like a storm cloud inside my head

Now there’s two clean glasses sitting on the shelf

And I’m talking to a ghost of my old self

Now it’s just the whiskey and the wind tonight

Trying to find a way to make the wrong feel right

The bottle’s going down and the breeze is getting cold

Replaying every single story that we ever told

But the glass runs dry and the shadows grow thin

Left with nothing

but the whiskey and the wind (mhmmm)

Left with nothing but the whiskey...

And

the wind (hummmm)