| Was on a flight home from—well, it doesn’t matter
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| With eleven hours, a million thoughts were gathering
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| My mind kept going to my garden of lavender
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| I wanted to get to them so they wouldn’t die
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| When I got home, they were dry as wheat
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| While the vines thrived around them B-horror film green
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| Not sure what my lavender symbolize
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| But inside my heart cried
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| My heart is drawn to the small out-of-the-way things
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| That I can’t help but to give my focus and attention and care
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| Cause they shut off what hijacks my brain
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| And help to tune out what can cause me pain
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| And I care for the animals around my yard
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| And my sister’s children and I care for my garden
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| Swarmed upon by bumblebees
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| And yellow jackets and wasps and hornets that can dart out and sting
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| I see the big orange tabby cat
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| Getting warm on the cover of the hot tub
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| He turns over on his back
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| Looking for a belly rub
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| I see the deer tracks in the snow
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| On the animal path
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| That leads into my backyard
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| I hear the sound of my girlfriend’s car
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| Coming up the driveway and it fills my heart
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| With joy
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| Though I know it will all end someday
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| And someone else will be sleeping in my mountain house
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| Wondering who lived here before
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| Just like I sometimes do
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| Though I never really cared to explore
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| I see the chocolate and peanut butter cat
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| I look at him and he looks back
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| I snap my fingers and blow him a kiss
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| He rubs his head against my hand and we reminisce
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| I walk downtown and see the Christmas lights
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| Along the highway and how they shine
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| And I’m reminded of when I was a child
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| And how happy I felt when I opened the box and saw a guitar inside
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| Was on a flight to somewhere I can’t remember
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| I feel like I’ve lived so many lives, I can’t put it all together
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| Dordrecht, Holland, yeah that was it
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| I had a nice dinner with a concert promoter and his Korean wife, Suyoung Kim
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| Then dropped me off at an old spooky hotel
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| I felt like an old man in a castle looking over at the canal
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| And I went and I played for a crowd but my heart wasn’t there
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| I came back to my room and slouched in my bed
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| And I fell asleep still stewing about my dried up lavender
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| And I fell asleep in the dark dead night
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| And I dreamed of a bluejay picking up a seed
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| And passing it to another’s beak
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| Then watched him soar to another branch
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| Then a baby possum hissed at me as I crept up on him near a trash can
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| And I woke up one rainy morning in Dordrecht, Holland
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| Then got on a flight for London, England
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| Then I took a cab from Heathrow right to Westfield Mall in Shepherd’s Bush
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| Where I bought a raincoat, then checked into the K West Hotel
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| And ate at a Polish restaurant down the street
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| I played the next night at Shepherd’s Bush Empire
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| Neil Halstead and his band were opening and their soundcheck sounded great
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| And as I watched I remembered playing with Mojave 3 in the mid-'90s
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| One of the shows being at CMJ in New York
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| And I remembered seeing them open for Gomez in Madrid in 1998
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| I was with my girlfriend Marina but I somehow managed to sneak in an
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| unforgettable kiss with Rachel backstage
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| It was one of those kisses that you’ll take to your grave
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| Gomez knew I was there, and they played «Grace Cathedral Park» that night and I
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| got pretty choked up listening to them
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| So anyhow, I played my show at Shepherd’s Bush that night and a fan heckled me
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| asking if I really hated Nels Cline
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| I explained that I didn’t, that his name just rhymed with one word or the other
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| After the show, I left with my agent, Ed, and his wife, and Alessia,
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| and we talked for a bit
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| Then I walked back to the K West with my guitar and got into my bed,
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| called my girlfriend and fell asleep |