Rainy night, open sky,
I’ve got the gleam of the moon in my eye.
Overalls on, a bottle of wine,
a curb, a banjo, a few friends of mine—oh,
there’s nothing here that there wasn’t before.
We buy our beer from the very same store,
sing the same songs on the front porch,
dinner, a two-step, and I’m back on that floor.

But I go home to the voices of women who dance in the afternoon light;
I dream dreams of angels and swimming through lightning that burns in the night.
What could improve such a peaceful existence?
I just don’t know.

I think of you more now that things have slowed down;
I barely noticed that you weren’t around
Cause you never were anyway.
I couldn’t get you to stay,
Just lots of love from far away, and what good is that?

But I go home to the voices of women who dance in the afternoon light;
I dream dreams of angels and swimming through lightning that burns in the night.
And I just don’t know bout this peaceful existence;
something doesn’t feel right…

I just let it all go like the smoke on the wind.
I never did try to get too tight a grip, and
I don’t worry much, but sometimes I touch
on the question of just where it is that I’m slipping.

Copyright (c) Lizzy Ross 2009