A Tattered Line of String

The Postal Service

We drained every dive 
In the lower east side 
And you failed to catch the train back to Queens 
So you came to my room 
We did some things that we knew not to do 
In the glow of the night's golden hue 

You've got a tattered line of string 
And you tied around everything 
That you want to call your own 
But it never seems to hold 

When we woke, we agreed 
That we would not ever speak 
Of this night to anyone that we both knew 
And you said, "Every time we kissed 
I felt something that couldn't exist" 
And I confessed that I thought I felt it too 

I've got a tattered line of string 
And I tied around everything 
That I want to call my own 
But it never seems to hold 

I've got a tattered line of string 
And I tied around everything 
That I want to call my own 
But it never seems to hold 

Everything
Everything
Never seems to hold
Never seems to hold

You've got a tattered line of string 
And you tied around everything 
That you want to call your own 
But it never seems to hold 

I've got a tattered line of string 
And I tied around everything 
That I want to call my own 
But it never seems to hold