| A gardener told me some plants move
|
| But I could not believe it
|
| Till me and Hannah Hunt
|
| Saw crawling vines and weeping willows
|
| As we made our way from Providence to Phoenix
|
| A man of faith said hidden eyes
|
| Could see what I was thinking
|
| I just smiled and told him
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| That was only true of Hannah
|
| And we glided on through Waverley and Lincoln
|
| Our days were long, our nights no longer
|
| Count the seconds, watching hours
|
| Though we live on the US dollar
|
| You and me, we got our own sense of time
|
| In Santa Barbara, Hannah cried
|
| Amidst those freezing beaches
|
| And I walked into town
|
| To buy some kindling for the fire
|
| Hannah tore the New York Times up into pieces
|
| If I can’t trust you then damn it, Hannah
|
| There’s no future, there’s no answer
|
| Though we live on the US dollar
|
| You and me, we got our own sense of time
|
| If I can’t trust you then damn it, Hannah
|
| There’s no future, there’s no answer
|
| Though we live on the US dollar
|
| You and me, we got our own sense of time |