| I think these walls have a message or have changed
|
| Which it is I can’t decide
|
| So I leave with the writer that remains
|
| And let him tell me what his better days were like
|
| And I sit with the memory of kings
|
| With only words to criticize
|
| As if I finally found the antidote for pain
|
| Without knowing what that’s really like
|
| And our actor ends his love song
|
| And all these lovers sit and stare
|
| If I don’t find peace in the valley
|
| It’s cause there wasn’t any there
|
| I will move somewhere the ocean’s never seen
|
| Somewhere weeds just make their claim
|
| Where my best friends exist only on screen
|
| Where my love all fits in frame
|
| But I want fire tumbling out into the night
|
| I want you to know why you hold me close
|
| Pull the quarter from my ear, or say you tried
|
| I need magic or the holy ghost
|
| And as I drive on through these canyons
|
| I’m still feeling like a crook
|
| If I don’t find peace in the valley
|
| I’ve got no place else to look |