| Oh where are we going? |
| Oh where have we been? |
| Our hush-a-bye angel,
|
| she’s safe and tucked in. I drive around town, while
|
| You sit and watch the rain. |
| There’s what you think with your heart and what I
|
| feel with my brain. |
| For those who plant
|
| Nothing but the seeds of the falling there is a phone booth in heaven that no
|
| one is calling. |
| It sits on a highway that
|
| Leads nowhere. |
| I’ll drop you a line next time I find myself there.
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| Remembering them days, how we wore our weakness well
|
| There’s some say that heaven can’t exist without hell, well if the proof’s in
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| the pudding, and that axiom’s true, somehow
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| The heart of the matter escaped me and you. |
| For those who plant nothing but the
|
| seeds of the falling there is a phone
|
| Booth in heaven that no one is calling. |
| Though the ghosts of redemption might
|
| whisper odd promises, I for one don’t put
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| Much faith in them specters. |
| Now the blueprint for sorrow is just to put off
|
| the hurt 'til the price of tomorrow becomes
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| More than love’s worth. |
| 'Til what’s begged and what’s stole is just the hollow
|
| remains of some beautiful failure that we
|
| Cling to in vain. |
| For those who plant nothing but the seeds of the falling
|
| there is a phone booth in heaven that no one is
|
| Calling. |
| The truest word heard there is the word that’s unspoken 'cause you
|
| can’t mend what the Good Lord designed to be
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| Broken. |
| Oh where are we going? |
| My darling oh where? |
| Our sweetheart’s in
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| dreamland, please let her stay there. |
| We are two
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| Separate people, with two separate ways. |
| Until we come to our senses,
|
| it’s our sweetheart that pays |