Paper that's quick to burn, I'm the cinnamon peeler
Beetles crushed that dye the carmine, I exist to be dreaming still
And if the roses need not tending
Until noon I'd sleep
But never could I have gone on that way

Because money was not the thing that yielded sight



Colorado, Wyoming, Helena into the Evergreen

The waves washed all thought of endeavor that was left in me



Would you ask my permission

The next time you absorb me

Preserve my memory of the mystic west

As I lay no claim to the devotion I felt



Our conversation banked in me and I had almost forgot the nature of dawn

I thought of it for days after, even months after the moments were gone



But I'd get so lonely inside of that room

No matter who waited for me

I'll get so lonely inside of that room

No matter who will ever wait for me