Tiny Glass Houses

There's a crack in my memory,
 as if something has gone
 and split the foundation
 of showdow, of song.
 And raddled the windows,
 and the tiny regrets.
 And the tiny glasses houses
 that I tried to forget.
 Drink til your sleeping,
 I love you that way.
 Like we are all babies;
 all our beds are unmade.
 No memory has molded
 enough to forget.
 And our tiny glass houses
 are not built for us yet.
 Takes all of the courage,
 and none of the pride,
 to stand in the threshold-
 to sit down inside.
 Where we are not babies;
 no we are not new.
 And our tiny glass houses
 with the beautiful view.
 Theres a crack in my memory
 where a funeral parade,
 rolls through the doorway
 that my memory made.
 And funeral marches
 to its funeral sounds.
 And the tiny glass houses
 are all tumbling down.
 And tiny glass houses,
 are all tumbling down.
 And tiny glass houses,
 are all tumbling down.