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.

           - Jason Ringenberg