I wake up in the morning next to you
Muted sunshine pouring through
And from my bedroom we see so many trees reaching for the sky
Italian pines and redwoods sequoias and oaks so green
And like a magnet, I’m drawn to you
And like an anchor cast into the ocean from a ship, I fall into you
I hear my garden calling me
The begonias, the English lavenders, the violas, and the lilies, and the California poppies
And the morning glories
And my herb garden full of parsley, various mints, and rosemary
Hey, let’s go take a walk along The Johnny Cash Trail
Splash around in the American Rivеr and walk across the bridges, and through the Cеntral California Hills
And walk by Folsom Prison
I heard Suge Knight did some time in there
It made me hurt, when in the documentary, he said, “How could it be me? ‘Pac was worth more alive than dead.”
And now I’m laying on my couch on my wrap-around porch
A distraught friend’s coming over, her and her husband are talking divorce
I’ve made the guest room nice for her, fresh pillowcases and clean sheets
And I put a blue vase in the window full of morning glories
And I’m re-reading Nine Stories as we wait for her, I haven’t read it since my early 20s
Oh that’s right, Seymour Glass, Seymour Glass lost his mind, and on this planet, he wasn’t meant to last
And in the story Uncle Wiggily in Connecticut, I’d forgotten about how Eloise cried to Mary Jane in the end
When she remembered the girl from school making fun of her brown-and-yellow dress
Muted sunshine pouring through
And from my bedroom we see so many trees reaching for the sky
Italian pines and redwoods sequoias and oaks so green
And like a magnet, I’m drawn to you
And like an anchor cast into the ocean from a ship, I fall into you
I hear my garden calling me
The begonias, the English lavenders, the violas, and the lilies, and the California poppies
And the morning glories
And my herb garden full of parsley, various mints, and rosemary
Hey, let’s go take a walk along The Johnny Cash Trail
Splash around in the American Rivеr and walk across the bridges, and through the Cеntral California Hills
And walk by Folsom Prison
I heard Suge Knight did some time in there
It made me hurt, when in the documentary, he said, “How could it be me? ‘Pac was worth more alive than dead.”
And now I’m laying on my couch on my wrap-around porch
A distraught friend’s coming over, her and her husband are talking divorce
I’ve made the guest room nice for her, fresh pillowcases and clean sheets
And I put a blue vase in the window full of morning glories
And I’m re-reading Nine Stories as we wait for her, I haven’t read it since my early 20s
Oh that’s right, Seymour Glass, Seymour Glass lost his mind, and on this planet, he wasn’t meant to last
And in the story Uncle Wiggily in Connecticut, I’d forgotten about how Eloise cried to Mary Jane in the end
When she remembered the girl from school making fun of her brown-and-yellow dress
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