Snow that thickens with the trees, and how they wear it.
Clambering up from my bed in a blanket.
How I find you shivering at the heathens.
with a thin light leaning on,
all the awning you have done.
It's a grey snow, and grey swans.
It's an orange while at dawn.
It's not the weight that brings you down, it's how you carry it.
I had to change it,
I had to change it.
Now the dreams can stay with you, through the morning.
Covering the way she looks, at the orphan.
While the girls will smoke, the lake is reflecting,
all the copper leaves.
Spinning like a set, of keys.
The wind was jingling.
And saying, "Come on girl, it's time, to go for a ride.
Girl, it's time, to go for a ride,
Girl, it's time, to go for a ride."
It's a thin twig holding straw,
that the blackbirds laid upon,
for the length of the radio song,
before they shovel on.
It's not the weight that brings you down, it's how you carry it.
I had to change it,
I had to change it.
How I find your bobby-pins on my floor.
How I know that morning will bring more.
How I find your underwear in my dryer,
and a strand of blonde hair, on my shoulder.
Even when you're gone.
Even when you bend, like a swan.
The wind was rustling.
All the things you leave, and says
"It's time for a ride.
Girl, it's time, to go for a ride,
Girl, it's time, to go for a ride,
Girl, it's time, to go for a ride."