I will never be as cool as Bob Dylan,
and neither will you
(don't try).

along emilys hill road
the trees are bare

she's skipping stones
across st martens creek

as she turns
smiling my name

her breath comes out
white clouds
mingles
and hangs in the air

the quiet
stillness
in her eyes

she sees something
in me
that I can't
see

and that s why
i love her so



emilys hill road
unchanged

the trees are bare

she's skipping stones
across
st. martins creek

I believe that's the way
I remember her best

It's been a while
I hardly recognize this song of art.
Not that it matters,
I know it's still stored deep inside my heart.