I got a postcard
With an old address
A picture of Houston
In a creased-up mess
Just to remind me
That it all went wrong
Just to beat me up
Just to turn me on
Stray paper, stray paper, stray paper
Burning in my hands
Cigarettes in the glove box with the classified ads
Ashes and silver worn in to your hands
"I got to see you" on a bar napkin
Gas station quarters, I got to see you again
Stray paper, stray paper, stray paper
Burning in my hands
Somewhere there's a letter that I never sent
It used to read pretty, now it's empty as
That night in the headlights with the blankets pressed
Was it something to you baby, or was it always just
Stray paper, stray paper, stray paper
Burning in my hands
Stray paper, stray paper, stray paper
Burning in my hands
Burning in my hands
Burning in my hands