| Have a seat upon this branch of mine
|
| It’s been a while, honey, I think I feel fine
|
| I see the question mark, a top your spine
|
| I’ve got a ladder, honey, won’t you let me climb?
|
| Tell me all about your foreign wars
|
| And all about the photographs that line your drawers
|
| 'Cause I know a lot about closing doors
|
| But not enough about what opens up yours
|
| Oh, my, my
|
| Oh, my stars
|
| Everything you see is ours
|
| Or it could be if you would try
|
| I wish you would, I wish you might
|
| If everything you’ve said to me has been true
|
| Then all my stars are leading me to you
|
| Have a seat upon this branch of mine
|
| It’s been a while, honey, won’t you take your time?
|
| And I see the question mark, a top your spine
|
| I’ve got a ladder, honey, won’t you let me climb?
|
| Oh, my, my
|
| Oh, my stars
|
| Everything you see is ours
|
| Or it could be if you would try
|
| I wish you would, I wish you might
|
| If everything you’ve said to me has been true
|
| Then all my stars are leading me to you
|
| Oh, my, my
|
| Oh, my stars
|
| Oh, my, my
|
| Oh, my stars
|
| Oh, my, my
|
| Oh, my stars
|
| Oh, my, my
|
| Oh, my stars
|
| Oh, my, my
|
| Oh, my stars
|
| Oh, my, my
|
| Oh, my stars |