It's four in the morning, the end of December
I'm writing you now just to see if you're better
I hear that you're building your little house deep in the desert
You're living for nothing now, I hope you're keeping some kind of record.
That night that you planned to go clear
Did you ever go clear?
What can I possibly say?
I guess that I miss you, I guess I forgive you
I'm glad you stood in my way.
Yes, and thanks, for the trouble you took from her eyes
I thought it was there for good so I never tried.
That night that you planned to go clear
