|
Sun comes through the shade, |
|
lands on the ceiling, |
|
it ends down the wall, |
|
where you're sleeping. |
|
And I'm trying to memorize |
|
your every morning movements, |
|
the roll and rise of you. |
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But it's too late to run, |
|
when you're caught in the snare, |
|
and I'm tangled in the barbed wire, |
|
all around your bed. |
|
Now, honey, I'll never learn, |
|
it takes me so long, |
|
when I finally fall, you know, |
|
they're always gone. |
|
Early morning haze, |
|
back in the car, |
|
what to bring and what to leave behind, love. |
|
Well you've got a car full of clothes, |
|
you've got your Steinbeck novels, |
|
you've got your wine glasses, |
|
you've got your summer sandals. |
|
You've got your sunglasses, |
|
you're ready to go |
|
to the gold state, |
|
the gold coast. |
|
Sun comes through the shade, |
|
lands on the ceiling, |
|
it came ninety-three million miles |
|
just to be here. |
|
Maybe it's not so far |
|
maybe it's not so far |
|
maybe it's not so far |
|
to California. |
