I could live by the river with both of my feet in the bluesnRe-organize nature while I compartmentalize the sky, toonI could do what I donAnd the rest of the world would have to pretend like they knewnWith my roots in the waternLike some cigarette cellophane toothnThe heat in my head that would boil in your bednAnd pull me into younI could fill up the room with these things I been thinking about younIt’s true.