Well, I sang in your morning, I sang in your night.
Dusty old travels and forty watt lights.
But lovin' to you was like the sand in the river.
You call me 'my darling' and I call you 'Indian giver'.
With a blanket of sorrow I lie in my bed.
Four walls are a prison when your heart's in your head.
Your soul is an icebox when you go where you're led.
With a blanket of sorrow I die in your bed.
Well, now daylight is here, the morning is come
but a blanket of sorrow still covers the sun.
Night isn't over, it's still dark outside.
Black blanket death now is nowhere to hide.
With a blanket of sorrow I lie in my bed.
Four walls are a prison when your heart's in your head.
Your soul is an icebox when you go where you're led.
With a blanket of sorrow I die in your bed.
With a blanket of sorrow I lay in your arms
but nothing will come of this pain.
I'm sorry, they told me, it's been felt before
and probably will be again.
With a blanket of sorrow I lie in my bed.
Four walls are a prison when your heart's in your head.
Your soul is an icebox when you go where you're led.
With a blanket of sorrow I die in your bed.

Copyright: BMG Rights Management
Writer(s): J. RINGENBERG