i'm not a lady and i'm not a lover i am just a stray and i found your covers and we twist and tangle and you call me little then you lifrt me easily but its non cmmital cuz we're both just roadies for a dying county your hands full of flyiers my feet in the mud and they can call us artists or they can call us junkies but we're not together no we're in this alone. this was not my daydream no mine was golden i think i was flying from these fields of snow yet still we wake here and we shake the winter and we don't feel as lonesome and we don't feel as cold but now your scratching through your skin again pointing fingers at the government finding loopholes through the shit your in all the while you keep so quiet and your crosswords looking empty from the words you will nt mention i would write them on the table but never could keep your attention though i'm still trying and there once was magic up in your bedroom and you let it course through my shaking hands as we swore to nothing and we traced the shaddows and there was no countryside and there was no land now i wish the ocean would roll it's waters over all your problems turn them smooth like seaglass but you whisper darling if you crave the highway then you stay put long enough oh the world does the opposite but if you wake up in the morning and your face has gotten dirty so you wash down all your mirrors well it seldom changes anything still you feel more lost than ever and you say its not your fault its this damn miserable weather but its the rain in which your caught, in which your caught you say your heard the sirens and you saw the flashing drew up all your curtains while the world was sleeping there in your boxer shorts you lioked like a maniac stuffing up your pillow case trying to hide the evidence did they make things difficult tie your feet to snowshoes leave you in the sunlight with a feild to run through or did they just say settle stop your mind from racing learn to dream like the rest of us stop your feet from pacing and i had finally left the riverside learned to drink from my two hands again i was winning my own fool's game i'd forgotten how the feeling felt i stood proudly in my dirty clothes justa blacksmith in the bakery should have never caught your golden eyes all i ever catch are refugees but the courtroom wasn't cold and the judge let you off easy you sat there with your arms folded at the time it was just boring and outside it didn't snow your not sleeping on a cot tonight no your with a girl who loves you you can finally shut your eyes you can shut your eyes, you can shut your eyes

i was the bird that you caught in the snow cause the winter had come, and i still hadn't flown but you swore i'd be safe in your small city home if i didn't sing loud and if i didn't grow. but oh i didn't mind i was warm through the night in your bed, in your arms, with the covers pulled tight. and i was the bird going first up the stairs when your hands round my waist, lifted me in the air and the stairway spun deep we were soft on our feet making love in the car, on that cold empty street and it's love so i press my knees to my chest we're both crying loud for a train stop penny, my fingers through my accordion and we drove... and when we stumbled into that strange city you said Spokane looks just like Omaha. it's love but in the parking lot of the gas station, we're scrounging change for a dollar again and it's love...

I went back to Ithaca went through the greenest pastures lost among the cornfeilds, the rows of planted towers you always were a runnaway, even with your ball and chain and I went back to Ithaca to find you Remember nights in the museum wing, with all its ancient chivalry the 3am security was drunk again so i dream we're sleeping safe in King Henry's bed again but you were always out of your head on the things you didn't know so when I turn my back you disappear like that New England April snow when I went back to find you you were passed out with your courtesan sleeping fast for nowhere with a needle and a pentagram you always were a refugee even when the fire ceased and I went back to Ithaca to calm you so with your violin bow, play the lights down through the trees but when the music quiets you stand small with empty pockets on these unfamiliar streets

I used to dream of daisy chains and nothing but the sun and my pleasure seeking soul, she always had me on the run but I caught her in the moment and I asked her why she spun she said when I slow down the whole world catches up and I mostly am a wanderer, when I am lost, I'm found and I chose to leave the ocean where my sisters all abound cause the river bed would call to me, her lonely drifting sound, she said we're mostly made of water, we will trickle lazy down and I'll admit that, Anastasia, I was following your wild ways, they had me running to the grave, we learn of freedom, and then we scream it as we barrel down the interstate, its such a foolish masquerade, and I'll admit now, I'm afraid