| Bright blue hydrangeas
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| Lost in the weeds
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| Bus stops and barbed wire on the way to stare
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| At the heart of the earth from the Poas peak
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| Just like the ones that we grew back in Jersey
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| Hung upside down, drying out for the wedding
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| There’s a man with his head in his hands on the sidewalk
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| His wife’s there behind him just off of the street
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| She scratches his back as he sobs on the asphalt
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| And what strikes me most is the symmetry
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| How they’re framed just like you and me
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| When the light from the hospital’s eastern wing
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| Tangles up in your hair and the sadness that pooled in my heart
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| Starts emptying slowly
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| Well I saw you last night in my dream
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| And there were hydrangeas where your face should be
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| The redwoods feel lonely and lunar and distant
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| The sun comes in fragments through breaks in the trees
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| And I feel further from home than I’ve ever been
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| These thin lines of light across space tether you to me
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| They pull in my memories, back to our apartment on 2nd Street
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| Through the South-facing window the light catches lengths of your hair
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| Like a path that you left me
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| Well I saw you last night in my dream
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| But there were azaleas where your face should be
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| Pieces of us in the morning sun
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| Sleeping bags under the 101
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| She takes off his glasses as he falls asleep again
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| They don’t got much but goddamn they got love
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| Well I saw you last night in my dream
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| I’m gonna marry you underneath driftwood from Crescent City |