There’s at least 8 days that don’t go by   Without at least a glancing thought   Three in the spring and one in the summer   But all four ended in the fall   Now he sits on the couch with her and reads the paper   The good dishes packed high in the cupboard   Still she’s not sure where he goes sometimes   She can’t quite ever know what he feels   The ex-wives of Mr. Larson      Feet on the coffee table, dishes in the sink   Whatever you wanted came free   The girl smelled like wine and laughed all the time   Fell in love under a sycamore tree   Or was it dinner that night?   Four years later in another town   Girl across the room, hair down, not looking at you   Tell me when did falling start to feel like   Falling down?      The ex-wives of Mr. Larson      Crystal, and you kissed her   Long enough to make her feel shy   And so good   What you wanted cost a lot more now   Cue the end, begin again, one more try, one last time   It’s no good      The ex-wives of Mr. Larson, The ex-wives of Mr. Larson