i built my home
in a small hole,
right there, in that mile-
high city everyone thinks is
a fine place to be in.

i filled it with white sheets,
crisp apple blossoms that had
only enough space for me
and you.

jumped a couple fences,
shook my dark mane out
and said "this is where i
belong"

but dreams either lose
their lustre or glow even
more brightly when you've lost
them.

so there. i'll stay
in my little hole, in this
mile-high city;
dreaming of you, so far
away;

asking god why i could never
be gone with the wind and the
rain from yesterday.