humid summer's day
you're thinking of leaving
this townin your dust
you pack up your bags
call a friend eastward
you're bound to be leaving by noon
before your folks come home
so you're leaving a note to tell them
why you're walking away
"because I can and I am
like anything with legs,
i will write when I'm doing okay"

i fell asleep on the bus as it turned onto the highway
i dreamed that I saw you at every stop that we made
you were selling white roses to all the passerby' s
reading your lips you were speaking my name

the city is cold
the city is hard
but it warms with a heat all its own
that melts every flake
falling on the pavement
before they have time to comform
the musical streets are keeping you rooted
have planted you firm where you stand
at a drunk irish pub you're reminded of home
so you leave without holding a hand

when my head hit the pillow I was gone from my room
i dreamed that i saw you on a nice afternoon
you were sharing your stories and drinking the time
the night came to fast you were gone from my sight

i fell asleep on the bus as it turned onto the highway
i dreamed that I saw you at every stop that we made
you were selling white roses to all the passerby' s
reading your lips you were speaking my name

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