i find the map and draw a straight line
over rivers, farms, and state lines
the distance from here to where you'd be
it's only finger-lengths that i see
i touch the place where i'd find your face
my finger in creases of distant dark places
...
i'm miles from where you are,
i lay down on the cold ground
i, i pray that something picks me up
and sets me down in your warm arms
over rivers, farms, and state lines
the distance from here to where you'd be
it's only finger-lengths that i see
i touch the place where i'd find your face
my finger in creases of distant dark places
...
i'm miles from where you are,
i lay down on the cold ground
i, i pray that something picks me up
and sets me down in your warm arms

0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home