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i saw your picture today on a card |
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i tried so hard |
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to remember that smiling face you placed |
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on my prince's pillow in that broken down car |
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last summer |
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you sang to me so beautifully |
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you were promised to me like a ring to a tree |
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but you cut it all off and |
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that's what kills me |
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pilot of lies |
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who sat at the bat while i sat home and cried |
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your hands were not tied |
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you knew exactly where to hide |
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and hitch a ride |
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to |
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one two three |
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caliFORnia |
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"now honey i'm so sorry |
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if i whistle hollywood happy |
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look where it gets me." |
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you show so painfully long |
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but i sat and stared as if nothing was wrong |
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as for the songs |
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the beauty is there |
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but the grace car's gone |
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and i don't want to be a part |
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of music vs. the heart. |
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we all stay in tune |
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we all swear it's true |
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(without going overhead or upperhanded jests just fly by more time to get to know you and less of me, you can't buy my time) |
