(i Can Tell) Your Love Is Waning

Not much in this trailer, now
A picture book, remote control, and a cookie jar shaped like a cow,
A macrame, frame, ‘round a picture of me,
Sittin’ in a pool of stale beer, on a black and white T.V.

There’s a baby in the bedroom that doesn’t know you there
As you’re lying in the bathtub with shampoo in your hair
And the radio is playing some fucked up country song …
And sorta like us it’s sad and sweet, but it won’t last for long …

‘Cause I can tell your love is waning from the looks and smell of it,
Like getting caught behind a cattle truck and all you smell is shit …
Getting caught behind a cattle truck and all you smell is shit …

I don’t know …

Not much in this trailer, now
A picture book, remote control, and a cookie jar shaped like a cow,
A macrame, frame, ‘round a picture of me, Sittin’ in a pool of stale beer, on a black and white T.V.

There’s a baby in the bedroom that doesn’t know your there
As you’re lying in the bathtub running water through your hair
And the radio is plays “Mack the Knife” …
And I begin to think as I pull myself a steak knife from the bottom of the kitchen sink …

‘Cause I can tell your love is waning from the looks and smell of it,
Like getting caught behind a cattle truck and all you smell is shit …
Getting caught behind a cattle truck and all you smell is shit …

I still don’t know … I don’t know …

Not much in this trailer, now
A picture book, remote control, and a cookie jar shaped like a cow,
A macrame, frame, ‘round a picture of me,
Sittin’ in a pool of stale beer, on a black and white T.V.

There’s a baby in the bedroom — doesn’t know your there
As you’re lying in the bathtub with blood all in your hair
And the radio plays so damn loud I can’t hear myself think …
As I wash the blood from my fingers and the knife in the bathroom sink …

‘Cause I could tell your love was waning from the looks and smell of it,
Like getting caught behind a cattle truck and all you smell is shit …
Getting caught behind a cattle truck and all you smell is shit …

But I know that if we could just get past, these foul moods we’re in …
We could drive on down the highway, girl, with all our windows rolled down once again …