She lifts her skirt up to her knees
Walks through garden of roses with her bare feet laughing
I never learned to count my blessings
I choose instead to dwell in my disaster
I walk on the down the hill
Through grass grown tall and brown
And still it’s hard somehow to let go of my pain
On past the busted bags and this old and rusted Cadillac
There sinks into the field collecting rain
Will I always feel this way?
So empty so strange
And of these cut through busted sunsets
These cold and damp white mornings I have grown weary
And through my cracked and dusty country lips
I spoke these words out loud with no one to hear me
Lay your blouse across the chair
Let fall the flowers from your hair
And kiss me with that country mouth so plain
Outside the rain is tapping on the leaves
To me its sounds like they’re
Applauding us the sweet love we made
Will I always fell this way?
So empty so strange
compositores: Ray Lamontagne
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