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What's the point in making a point?
What's the problem with laying low?
Where the pine trees sway
Where the goldfinch strays
That is where I want to go

Take the money from my hand
Take the trouble from my mind
Where the sun don't shine
Where the water is wine
That is where we lived to die
And if the flood gets high
But the highway is dry
That's the sign for moving along
I don't think you'll keep your promise
I don't think I'll keep in touch
Keep the memory of what we used to be
But even that feels like too much

So what's the point in making a point?
What's the problem with laying low
Where the pine trees sway
Where the goldfinch strays
That is where I want to go

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