Interrogations by Afton Wolfe Lyrics

He's got a million-dollar view of the sunrise
Cashmere slippers on his pedicured feet
He's continents away from his wishing wells
And the death and the desert heat

And I made my bed

She's had enough of the nephews and
All of their clipboard-chained lies
And cap-fulls of scripted apple juice
And sad goodbyes

Come a little closer if you want to know
Where I hid my blues
I wrote them down in one of those books that you gave me
But I've got some bad news

That I've made my bed

She sleeps with one hand wrapped tight around the curtain
The other hand pressed flat up against the wall
And that man in that chair's just a coat hanging there, but
He's staring at you and daring you to fall
And she sleepwalks through her days and
Through what must feel like hallucinations
And the angels keep her awake at night
For their vigorous interrogations

And I made my bed