Good Lord I loved those old days.
They way that life it glowed.
West Virgina misty mountains-
a girl I used to know.
All the people I done roamed with.
oh the songs that we all sung.
In that subtle little accent-
the sunrise always young.
Thank you for your time Sir.
Pleasure to meetcha Ma'am.
Here's a kettle full of memories-
and a vessel to be manned.
As we ride across the channels.
All our demons strong in tow.
Its every tiny morsel-
that gives us strength to row.
Downward way past furthur.
Always fresh right on the mind.
Is the way the forest parted-
when we left it all behind.
Ah but never to be forsaken.
Somewhere on a shelf.
Is a little piece of all of you-
and a shadow of myself.
Holding a candle tightly.
Keeping up the pace.
An empty highway driving-
simply searching for some grace.
To keep up with ocean.
Then ride up with the wind.
Just to get up in the morning
find another place to swim.
Sep 8, 2010
Sep 8, 2010 at 1:54 PM UTC
Good Lord I loved those old days.
They way that life it glowed.
West Virgina misty mountains-
a girl I used to know.
All the people I done roamed with.
oh the songs that we all sung.
In that subtle little accent-
the sunrise always young.
Thank you for your time Sir.
Pleasure to meetcha Ma'am.
Here's a kettle full of memories-
and a vessel to be manned.
As we ride across the channels.
All our demons strong in tow.
Its every tiny morsel-
that gives us strength to row.
Downward way past furthur.
Always fresh right on the mind.
Is the way the forest parted-
when we left it all behind.
Ah but never to be forsaken.
Somewhere on a shelf.
Is a little piece of all of you-
and a shadow of myself.
Holding a candle tightly.
Keeping up the pace.
An empty highway driving-
simply searching for some grace.
To keep up with ocean.
Then ride up with the wind.
Just to get up in the morning
find another place to swim.
FSCSHOUT