| One day when the weather is warm,
|
| I’ll wake up on the hill,
|
| And hold the morning like it was a plow,
|
| And cut myself a row
|
| And follow it until
|
| I know better by God than I know now.
|
| There was no taste of spring
|
| In the breath you blew away
|
| And nothing of a color left in your face,
|
| And no way I could keep
|
| The faith you lost in me And nothing I could raise up in its place.
|
| It’s a truth I keep alone
|
| In the guise of love and help,
|
| It’s an awful truth
|
| To think I’ve always known
|
| I gave my life to you
|
| Just to save myself.
|
| One day when the weather turns
|
| as the sky is deep and wide
|
| I’ll cut myself a row
|
| Like a man in his sleep
|
| That will find me farther
|
| On than all the times I’ve tried
|
| One day when the weather is warm,
|
| I’ll wake up on the hill,
|
| And hold the morning like it was a plow,
|
| And cut myself a row
|
| And follow it until
|
| I know better by God than I know now. |