| Found a body at the rest stop
|
| Buried in the woods beneath
|
| The garbage and leaves
|
| Workers clearing overgrowth
|
| Saw hidden in the brush
|
| Just beyond the line of the trees
|
| A jawbone and teeth
|
| Winter into spring
|
| On Fulton Street
|
| And cities grow weeds
|
| And cities grow
|
| And cities keep secrets in the trees
|
| In the shadow of a pyramid
|
| And cities grow weeds
|
| And cities grow
|
| By the river and the covered bridge
|
| All cities grow weeds
|
| And I know
|
| All the memories your dreams retrieve
|
| You pick a dress out for the funeral
|
| Hold a vigil in the field
|
| Release lanterns at night
|
| And I saw on the shoulder of the interstate
|
| When I followed your eyes
|
| When I followed your eyes
|
| All the crosses for the accidents
|
| All the photos and the flowers by the street
|
| Will I ever put flowers by the street?
|
| Will I ever put flowers by the street?
|
| Never needed to live and suffer through the pain
|
| All the tyrannies of grief
|
| If I ever do
|
| Will I even have the strength to do anything?
|
| Could I go and leave flowers by the street?
|
| And I saw signs on the shoulder of the interstate
|
| When I followed your eyes
|
| And I saw lights fading every monument
|
| And the passage of time
|
| If I could just try, could I banish all the pain in you?
|
| Give you everything you need?
|
| If I hid rose quartz underneath the mattress
|
| Would it help you nights
|
| When you’re struggling to sleep?
|
| When you’re struggling to sleep?
|
| Will I ever be half what I can be?
|
| Can I ever be half what I can be?
|
| If you needed me to be anything
|
| Could I even be half of what you need?
|
| Will I ever be me?
|
| Will I ever be me?
|
| If I could take hands to shake you
|
| Would you want me to?
|
| If it shook you out of grief?
|
| If I gave chase
|
| Summers when you tunneled into nothingness
|
| Would it bring you some release?
|
| If I saw signs on the shoulder of the interstate
|
| When I followed where your eyes went
|
| I saw nights spent after midnight in a eulogy
|
| That you never got to give
|
| And I saw fenders bent hard on an oak tree
|
| I saw sirens at the scene
|
| I saw cigarettes falling in the tangle of machinery
|
| Between the console and seat
|
| And I saw hands reach
|
| Car drift across the center line
|
| I saw it all in my dreams
|
| And I saw leaves hiding bodies
|
| In the tree line off the interstate
|
| But I’ve never put flowers by the street
|
| I’ve never put flowers by the street
|
| If you need for me to be anything
|
| I could be everything you need
|
| If you need for me to be anything
|
| I could be everything you need
|
| Every monument
|
| Every memory
|
| And I’ve never put flowers by the street |