So maybe Thomas Jefferson
wasn't born in your backyard
like you have said, and
maybe i'm just the horizon you run to
when she has left you
There you all here in my head
and running around and calling me
come back,
I'll show you the roses and brush off the snow
and open their petals again and again
and you know that apple green ice cream
can melt in your hands I can't, so
I, I held your hand at the fair
and even forgot what time it was
and even Thomas Jefferson
wasn't born in your backyard
like you have said, and
maybe i'm just the horizon you run to
when she has left you
and me here alone on the floor
you're counting my feathers as the bells toll
you see the bow and the belt
and the girl from the south
all fav'rites of mine, you know them all well
and spring brings fresh little puddles
that makes it all clear makes it all...
Hey do you know?
Hey
Do you know
What this is doing to me?
Oh, here
Here
Here
Here in my head