The Show

I want to know you like I know myself
From the morning to the evening bell
I burned my fingers on the stove
I have problems letting go
Winter creeps in & settles on the bones
Just summer passes on tip-toes
I made a fire, cast a spell, crossed my heart and wish you well
Brothers told me that she’s been asking of my whereabouts and when I go
She is wild as the garden thorn bush
So I do not touch her until I know how she grows
I lost the race; I’m waiting on the show
Punched the wind out from my sails long ago
Every action has a motive and a goal
I make a fist of auburn leaves and rub my hand upon my knee
So I ask myself now, alone
Should I follow you or be gone
Brothers told me that she’s been asking of my whereabouts and when I go
She is wild as the garden thorn bush
So I do not touch her until I know how she grows
I lost the race; I’m waiting on the show
So I ask myself now, alone
Should I follow you or be gone
Brothers told me that she’s been asking of my whereabouts and when I go
She is wild as the garden thorn bush
So I do not touch her until I know how she grows
I lost the race; I’m waiting on the show