I will speak of a town we called adobe
She is but a home for lost minds
i first saw you on her hill dancing in the wind
but i was poor and brown in my torn overall
so i stared till my soul wandered away
If  you ever remember home come what may
do think of me and the much i have prayed
to have nothing else but your soft self
right here in my starving arms my dearest
for this much am ready to die or cry
till every ohmsis forever gone
and am no where in sight
till the rivers run dry
or the sky fall on me
till you once again desire
or feel this much as i do