Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Gone are the days bonfires made me think of you



maybe these days are over, over now
and i loved you better than anyone else you know
and i believe in growing old with grace
i believe she only loved my face
i believe i acted like a child
making faces at acquired tastes
and now silver moons belong to you


and silver moons belong to you
i'm off to the ballet and to practice all these ancient ways
tell the new kids where i hid the wine, tell their fathers that i'm on my way, and say:

maybe these days are over, over now


gone are the days bonfires make me think of you
looks like the prophecy came true
you are a fallen tree, he is a fallen tree
how old are you, no, how old are you?


under all the folds of your dresses that you wear
there's an ocean and a tide and a riot in the square
over are the days that the congas made your hair
sway around to the cadence of your hey ho hey ho cheer


under all the folds of the dresses that you wear
sway around to the cadence of your voice when you sang there 

No comments:

Post a Comment