There's a bed with lilac roses
and some woods that could hold us
and our dogs.
There are fathers in the skies
and a lonesome sailor's cries
in the dark.
There's an unworn ring beside us
and a fire that describes
why it's there
and with distance it will burn
but it could fall apart in turn
but would we care?
After days
Afternoon
I'll be there someday soon.
Someday soon.
There's a crowd with sooted faces
and a window that displays
the market square
and if i can't divide my soul
into little specks of gold
would you care?
there's my father driving on to
the woods where he belongs to
in the north
there are clouds that open wide
to a city kept inside
of its doors
and if it's hopefulness he finds
in the tumbling waves of time
where he lays
as the smokerings travel on
well, i hope he hears this song
to break the day
And as we are kept inside
all those riders of the tide
will make it home.
Make it home.
And as we are kept inside
all those riders of the tide
will make it home.
Make it home.