

M A L I N W A G N O N M U S I C
A GLASS OF WHITE
A glass of white, a bottle of pale
Evenings with my ear pressed to the rail
Listening for your return
Mosquito kissed, oblivious to burn
A touch of green, a trace of red
Most mornings I just stay in bed
Dreaming of what used to be
Undercover with another’s memory
Like a dog that’s kicked and cursed
I like you at your best
And love you at your worst
Busy chasing my own tail
A glass of white, a bottle of pale
A hint of lime, a pinch of salt
I know most likely everything’s my fault
So there’s nothing up my sleeve
I know most likely one of us will leave
​
Like a room without a view
You start to thinking these four walls
Are all you ever knew
Funny how it feels so strange
I know most likely nothing’s gonna change
If I’m not blind why can’t I see
How I ended up in places
I never thought I’d be
With my ear pressed to the rail
A glass of white, a bottle of pale