A story of wrecking your neighbor’s marriage and not being sorry about it. Structurally, this is a strophic song - every verse ends the same way, there’s a bridge, but no chorus. Is it more or less acceptable to wreck an unhappy home? A feeling of guilt consumes the bridge, while the verses describe the chemistry and intimacy between you and your neighbor’s wife.
Fell in love with a painter’s wife
and I get it, I shouldn’t have done it.
But the secondhand smoke, all his friends and their jokes -
she went out, we met eyes on the stairwell.
And I found them one night on the lawn by the bell
eating cherries and telling me I was a riot. (Thanks!)
But the way her bracelets hit my floor,
I could tell she preferred something tighter.
And every evening I still hear that
Normally I felt so alone.
And I haven’t forgotten, I’ll never forget
the shine of her face and the hole in my gut.
Normally I felt so whole.
I’ve never been good at saying I’m sorry
and I came to your door, but I never knocked.
Cause I saw all your paintings
through the curve of her back.
You and I, we just paint
from Red Horses,
released September 23, 2016
Jared van Fleet - piano, bass, and shakers