Draw me a map to a place I can't name
Forget how and why, we're too young to care, too careless to heed
Take a photograph, to remember each not-line
In twenty-three years, let's look back on our glory days
Send me a message in a bottle, washed out to sea
No one is home, but the thought counts at least
Write me a bedtime story with fairies and wolves
With no good or evil, no plot or lines
And sing me a song with words from a tree.
No comments:
Post a Comment