Oh where are we going? Oh where have we been? Our hush-a-bye angel, she's safe and tucked in. I drive around town, while
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you sit and watch the rain. There's what you think with your heart and what I feel with my brain. For those who plant
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nothing but the seeds of the falling there is a phone booth in heaven that no one is calling. It sits on a highway that
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leads nowhere. I'll drop you a line next time I find myself there. Remembering them days, how we wore our weakness well.
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There's some say that heaven can't exist without hell, well if the proof's in the pudding, and that axiom's true, somehow
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the heart of the matter escaped me and you. For those who plant nothing but the seeds of the falling there is a phone
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booth in heaven that no one is calling. Though the ghosts of redemption might whisper odd promises, I for one don't put
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much faith in them specters. Now the blueprint for sorrow is just to put off the hurt 'til the price of tomorrow becomes
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more than love's worth. 'Til what's begged and what's stole is just the hollow remains of some beautiful failure that we
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cling to in vain. For those who plant nothing but the seeds of the falling there is a phone booth in heaven that no one is
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calling. The truest word heard there is the word that's unspoken 'cause you can't mend what the Good Lord designed to be
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broken. Oh where are we going? My darling oh where? Our sweetheart's in dreamland, please let her stay there. We are two
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separate people, with two separate ways. Until we come to our senses, it's our sweetheart that pays.
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Phone Booth In Heaven
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| Jim White |
