The wires were wrapped Around the tips of his fingers But the pencil was working like brand new And the storm was thickening but his eyes were still glittering and the aftermath he saw was you
Come on he said, take one of my pictures You're from the West, You can take me home To your land of milk And of honey You can take me home.
And you were sitting right there At the edge of a forest fire Feverish golden hands Touching tiny copper coins And one by one as they passed by You heard a whisper that sounded like a cry
Chorus
The memory is already five days old You've got the picture Held tight in a book And you've got every intention As to taking it home You've got every intention, Every intention
But nobody's listening at the corner store And nobody's listening at the curb You've got a firefighter Drawing pictures of flamingos Hoping they'll land somewhere else On this earth
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Copy to Clipboard: The wires were wrapped Around the tips of his fingers But the pencil was working like brand new And the storm was thickening but his eyes were still glittering and the aftermath he saw was you
Come on he said, take one of my pictures You're from the West, You can take me home To your land of milk And of honey You can take me home.
And you were sitting right there At the edge of a forest fire Feverish golden hands Touching tiny copper coins And one by one as they passed by You heard a whisper that sounded like a cry
Chorus
The memory is already five days old You've got the picture Held tight in a book And you've got every intention As to taking it home You've got every intention, Every intention
But nobody's listening at the corner store And nobody's listening at the curb You've got a firefighter Drawing pictures of flamingos Hoping they'll land somewhere else On this earth
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