when i turned the page
|
the corner bent into a perfect dog ear
|
as if the words knew i'd need them again
|
but at that time i couldn't see it
|
|
i would read that page every day
|
for the next year
|
|
she sang a short tune
|
da, da da da da da
|
i came from her soft touch
|
and slept
|
|
we sat on a shoreline
|
watching wind scalp the white off the waves
|
sitting on a shoreline
|
and if i could do it
|
i'd dog ear this page
|
|
we spoke about growing old
|
and filling the future's empty stage
|
|
she sang a short tune
|
da, da da da da da
|
i came from her soft touch
|
and slept
|
|
when i turned the page
|
the corner bent into a perfect dog ear
|
as if the words knew i'd need them again
|
|
i hope the weather holds
|
but you don't need the sun to make you shine
|
these island towns don't care for city folk
|
but i think we can starve the city from our minds.
|
|
i know we won't want for much
|
it's just you and me and a bed and a shoreline
|
|
-----------------
|
This Ain't A Surfin Movie
|
| Minus The Bear |
