The story behind this song
Nobody voted and nothing was said, but the window side was always her side of the bed. Her lamp burns late over half-read books stacked like a city on the nightstand, a glass of water she never finishes sweating rings into the wood. She takes the aisle seat and the crossword; her cold feet find his shins at midnight, and he stopped complaining back in '04.
A thousand tiny treaties, signed without a word, until it all just fit. For the husband who knows that if home has coordinates, they're right here — her side, his side, and the floorboard they both know to skip.
Lyrics
But the window side was always your side of the bed
Stacked like a city on the nightstand
A glass of water you won't finish
Sweating rings into the wood
That decided everything
The floorboard we both know to skip
Nothing on this map was planned, my dear
We just lived until it fit
And if home has coordinates, they're here —
Your side of the bed, my side of the bed
You get the crossword, I get sports
Your cold feet find my shins at midnight
I stopped complaining in '04
Signed without a word
The floorboard we both know to skip
Nothing on this map was planned, my dear
We just lived until it fit
And if home has coordinates, they're here —
Your side of the bed, my side of the bed
I slept dead center out of spite
Didn't work — the bed felt wrong
Till your suitcase rolled back home that night
The floorboard we both know to skip
Nothing on this map was planned, my dear
We just lived until it fit
And if home has coordinates, they're here —
Your side of the bed, my side of the bed
I'll be right here — I know my place
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