Furl

I sang myself to sleep Guess I still do Could you hold my hand? I can't I never learned how to And all the years that hang like rain I often wish them back again But somewhat born and half awake A parking lot, a bellyache Oh Oh Oh And every time I turn To find there's no one there I feel it like it's shining new And fall again And all the years that hang like rain I often wish them back again In ribbons tied around our waist I held your arms, you wore my face And something in the evening sky Said, "Holy, holy sick am I" But so are you, and there you stand A garden wall, a weatherman Oh Oh Oh Oh