Leave Little Fiddler (Alone)

The windows stay closed, They've never known me. I walk to the door if it looks like it's lonely. The turn-table turns For a song you just learned: An old story worth telling, Morphology gone wrong. The ashes feel good in my hands. So did you, so they say, so they claim, so did you. The ashes feel good in my hands. So did you, so they say, so they claim, so did you. How can you go home again If everything has been burnt? How can you go home again If everything has been burnt? You can't ever You can never You can't ever You can never Bonnie Cane(?) went away, one drunken Welsh Gray Now I never know what to do