If I was a crow I'd fly the roads that wind between these places Over back lanes and weathervanes where creeks have left their traces Fruit trees planted long ago still bloom every other season The fence won't keep the rabbits out, the gate's always open for some damn reason
Follow and trace the coastline to a place that's worn and storied At the end of their chain the Great Lakes drain Into the old St. Lawrence Ah, we've held a party or two, slept a million dreamers Who woke to find the coffee on Though the smoke is gone, the poetry lingers
If you're too tucked away, and you can't see the sun If you've something to say, but you ain't got no-one Whatever you do, if you have to Ah, use your thumb, just get here, just come
If you come out at night, you'll see the light, and where to make the turnoff But do call ahead, we might be in bed, or writing with our clothes off Writing on the wallpaper, writing on the wood The poets die, a lullaby still whispers faintly in the room
If you're too tucked away, and you can't see the sun If you've something to say, but you ain't got no-one Whatever you do, if you have to Ah, use your thumb, just get here, just come
If you're too tucked away, and you can't see the sun If you've something to say, but you ain't got no-one If your hands are getting cold, you don't know what you've become
If I was a crow I'd fly the roads that wind between these places Where poems were read and hungers fed and hearts were warm and gracious Did we keep a guest book somewhere, or are the records fading? We'll make a vow to start one now, there is still time, but it's not waitingTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
