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Barn Swallow
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Sawmill
The other night i dreamt of you
by the old sawmill we use to know
You felt the blade just to see if it was as sharp it use to be
You where always sharp, that i have to admit
Playing our souls on your harp and you where turning us down with your cigarette lit
As morning broke well so did you
I lie beside you observing your sobs
As i grabbed for my jeans, turned to see you
you where gone
Gone to someone else's dream
Maybe to a different song
Gone to someone else's dream
Maybe to a better song
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