| Lyrics: | It's pretty good, the wine/ The way that we look at/ Ten to eight in the morning/ Just talking,
still awake in/ Dawn and dew drinking,
thinking / Always...
Remembering the
laughs, the time/ We got high for seven days down/ In New Orleans and it seemed like/ No one else
knew we were
just/ The moon and sun in fog before the/ Heat burned it away and took / The
sleep from tired heads on/ Beds of reaching hands, of
road trip/ Breath and long tall freedom
And then you long/ For the days of trippin' down/ The long road just reading the/
Signs that show you the way to/ A higher place you
meditate to/ Feel the quiet of the earth/
That was back/ When we used to be alright
Another shame, the way/ The city smells
worse on/ A hot day in August...2 PM/ Right before us good movers/ Move and us shakers
break/
Our hearts getting home to / Country love and the garbage/ Dump by the dried up creek/ Near the
forest that once had life/ And
then I turn on the news/ Somebody shoot me soon/ I'm tired of
over heating, falling/ Quick to bending knees and/ Broken veins, of
always needing/ Faith to
get to shore and break/ All the vows I've made
No time or presence / Of mind to
wonder why/ No time for questions of/ Why I wonder why/ Something's wrong...again/ The noise
shakes the ground/ There's a rage in/ The crowd and I'm a face/ In the crowd, what's your name?/
You're sinkin' in the sand/ Standing
next to me, a river/ Running through your pants, afraid/
To trust me when my hands / Are helping you |
