Tiny Glass Houses

There's a crack in my memory, as if something has gone and split the foundation of shadow, of song. And rattled the windows, and the tiny regrets. And the tiny glasses houses that I tried to forget. Drink â??til youâ??re 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. Thereâ??s 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.