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The Fugitives
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Wilderness Years
She said, 'I'm not the type to leave an impression'
and I banked her smile in a drawer
we pretended to smoke the air on the street
I thought, here's an addiction I could lobby for
winter layers tried to bury her figure
as my hands dug away in the frost
and carved along curves that I seemed to remember
confusing something familiar with something lost
the wilderness years were an education
I'm more lost than I was before
maybe young love is infatuation
it's still one thing worth staying up for
I thought to myself, to be warm in the winter
is a tasty little defeat
and we dangled a kiss and I smiled without looking
as the snow cushioned my feet
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and led them back onto the street
the wilderness years were an education
I'm more lost than I was before
maybe young love is infatuation
It's still one thing worth staying up for
a little manicured fear
and some trepidation
for the ones who love without hesitating
I'm not the type to leave an impression
the wilderness years were an education
maybe young love is infatuation
it's still one thing worth staying up for
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