In the yard, behind the church where
|
Butterflies and blackbirds search for
|
A safe place to rest the night away
|
We will go down to the brook and
|
Sit upon the overlook then
|
Forget about the troubles of the day
|
|
We will walk among the graves of
|
Men long dead with presidents' names and
|
Listen to the water flow softly by
|
I will kiss you on the lips now
|
And as the sky grows dark we'll strip down
|
And let the water wash away all lies
|
|
In the yard, behind the church where
|
Butterflies and blackbirds perch on
|
Gray stones as the garden's growing dim
|
We will lay down on the ground and
|
Put our cheeks against the dirt down
|
Where it no longer matters
|
Where you've been
|
|
-----------------
|
In The Yard, Behind The Church
|
| Eels |
