| I left your house this morning about a quarter after nine
|
| coulda been the Willie Nelson coulda been the wine
|
| when I left your house this morning
|
| it was a little after nine
|
| it was in Bobcaygeon I saw the constellations
|
| reveal themselves one star at a time
|
| Drove back to town this morning with working on my mind
|
| I thought of maybe quitting
|
| thought of leaving it behind
|
| went back to bed this morning
|
| and as I’m pulling down the blind
|
| the sky was dull and hypothetical
|
| and falling one cloud at a time
|
| That night in Toronto with its checkerboard floors
|
| riding on horseback and keeping order restored
|
| til the men they couldn’t hang
|
| stepped to the mic and sang
|
| and their voices rang with that Aryan twang
|
| I got to your house this morning just a little after nine
|
| in the middle of that riot
|
| couldn’t get you off my mind
|
| so I’m at your house this morning
|
| just a little after nine
|
| cause it was in Bobcaygeon where I saw the constellations
|
| reveal themselves one star at a time |