La, la, la
|
La, la, la, la
|
La, la, la, la, la, la, la
|
|
She was born in April
|
1783
|
The only daughter of a lawyer in a little town that skirted the sea
|
She showed her mother's beauty
|
And when she caught his eye
|
He was taken by her innocence it'd only be a matter of time
|
|
But then one day a cold wind blew and she took ill and wouldn't make it long
|
And all that he could do was sit and wonder how something so right could go so wrong
|
|
And before she died he told her that he loved her
|
He said I know we'll be together sometime soon
|
He said I don't believe in heaven as he brushed his tears aside
|
And he added just before he closed her eyes
|
If you think that this was good
|
Wait until the next life
|
|
It was a Friday
|
1983
|
He was a parking lot attendant in a little town in North Tennessee
|
A car approaching
|
And when they met eyes
|
They sort of smiled at one another for a while but they didn't know why
|
|
Then something made her shudder like a butterfly set free from her cocoon
|
A flash of indistinguishable moments shared in rainy afternoons
|
|
They were married on the second day of summer
|
Watched the beauty turn to wrinkles over time
|
And before he died she told him that she loved him
|
And it was when she said these words he realized
|
If you think that this was good
|
Wait until the next life
|
|
So if you feel like you have known someone forever
|
Don't just walk away and spend the night alone
|
Because it could be someone far behind your future
|
Waiting for their heart to come back home
|
|
And if you think that this was good
|
Wait until the next life
|
|
-----------------
|
Wait
|
| The Benjy Davis Project |
