I came to you, and you to me. And we were tapping on the window at the children when the piggy bank broke.
And pitching quite a fit, About how the makers of the medicine will always say you’re looking sick.
I came to you, and you to me. And we would whimper to the women washing milk off of their formal white clothes. But the funny thing, Was how when god was in his people we were dreaming about who else to be. And all the fingers that we damaged when all we wanted was the diamond ring.
I came to you, and you to me. And we were barking at the drug dogs blood dried black on their hands, And never realized. You never tussle with a giant til you can hit him right between the eyes. And that no matter how we chewed it we’d be choking on a comprise. Cause all the jaws, all the claws, getting restless by the riverside. And it wasn’t muscle in the shadow that was shoving us into the light.
I came to you, and you to me. And we were snatching at a war baby’s bottle just to trade it for change. But now it’s come to pass. That every eye beneath the mountain saw the smoke but no one heard the blast. And no one knew the arm was broken although everybody signed the cast. And until the government was good, she said “Man, I thought you’d never ask”. That when love wore out her welcome they just booked her for a bag of grass. That while she cried on the cross we were sucking on the laughing gas. And when the head had left the body, not a flag was hanging half-mast.
I came to you, and you to me. And then we lost our old lovers’ revolution but it started again. Now we’re one.
One of the parade wake widows walking home into the setting sun. One of the soldiers lost in the dreams that never lose the gun. One of the wise men wandering the podium without a tongue. One of the trophies tarnished by the mess we made of being young. One of the prayers one of the promises swallowed without chewing gum. One of the deaf ears dumber all the time for all the years of drums. One of the wide-eyed soap boxes buried under Washington. One of the beat cops combing every sidewalk crack for love. One of the crowded stars uncounted when the map was done. One of the withered in the garden left to wonder when the rain will come.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
