Down in Texas they’re milking sunflowers
Trying to get the sunshine out of every drop they get
You cannot pick thistles or you’ll prick your fingers
But the ones that do haven’t bled all the way out yer
I’m always up here with my toes in the water cause you don’t die if you keep your roots cool and wet
I won’t cry about it
I won’t lie either
I keep it quiet, right there in my chest
I keep it with me
I always have it
They’ll bury it with me
That, and my regrets
If you swallow glass
It wears down the edges and turns back to sand
It keeps you warm inside
