I wrote this in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. It's easy to see how things can get blown up out of proportion in one's mind. We read more into things that we want. We want more than what we can have. I didn't want this song to be depressing. Actually, the memories of that night are good. It's just that 'being alone' can distort what we see...and sometimes, it's just necessary to pick up our blankets and gently close the door.

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Picked up my blankets and gently closed the door
put away the feelings that I felt the night before
I must have been dreaming ‘cause I know now it was nothing more
I just picked up my blankets and gently closed the door

It might have been the whiskey, it might have been the moon
It might have been the way the we made love that made my heart assume
that we were much more than just that summer night in June
Lord, it must have been the whiskey, it must have been the moon

bridge

Now everywhere folks I know, they think I’m doing fine
They don’t know it takes a god-damned surgeon to mend this heart of mine
Go on, play your songs, it’s time to sing the blues
You can look in the funny papers but you know there ain’t no good news

Because you never said you loved me, but then you never told me lies
You never said "tomorrow’ girl, so please don’t apologize
I should have known better, should have been a little bit more wise
because you never said you loved, but then you never told me lies

Picked up my blankets and gently closed the door
put away the feelings that I felt the night before
I must have been dreaming ‘cause I know now it was nothing more
I just picked up my blankets and gently closed the door