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It's pretty good, the wine/ The way that we look at/ Ten to eight in the morning/ Just talking, still awake in/ Dawn and dew drinking,
thinking / Always...
Remembering the laughs, the time/ We got high for seven days down/ In New Orleans and it seemed like/ No one else knew we were
just/ The moon and sun in fog before the/ Heat burned it away and took / The sleep from tired heads on/ Beds of reaching hands, of
road trip/ Breath and long tall freedom
And then you long/ For the days of trippin' down/ The long road just reading the/ Signs that show you the way to/ A higher place you
meditate to/ Feel the quiet of the earth/ That was back/ When we used to be alright
Another shame, the way/ The city smells worse on/ A hot day in August...2 PM/ Right before us good movers/ Move and us shakers
break/ Our hearts getting home to / Country love and the garbage/ Dump by the dried up creek/ Near the forest that once had life/ And
then I turn on the news/ Somebody shoot me soon/ I'm tired of over heating, falling/ Quick to bending knees and/ Broken veins, of
always needing/ Faith to get to shore and break/ All the vows I've made
No time or presence / Of mind to wonder why/ No time for questions of/ Why I wonder why/ Something's wrong...again/ The noise
shakes the ground/ There's a rage in/ The crowd and I'm a face/ In the crowd, what's your name?/ You're sinkin' in the sand/ Standing
next to me, a river/ Running through your pants, afraid/ To trust me when my hands / Are helping you
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