so much depends on a little red wheelbarrow glazed with rainwater beside the white chickens these days a man dies you can't leave him be gotta get his body offa your property mm-hmm so much depends on a red wheelbarrow glazed with rainwater…

Dian, you say the sun is going down But it's a ways across town I think we've got a little light left Dian, you say you miss me when we talk But I'm the only one who calls Ain’t it funny how that works out Dian, first your sister…

Sunday morning, no such luck My head is dizzy, it’s bright as fuck I’m dying I make my way to south French broad Lumbering wondering where she’s gone or something I see Sam he’s in the same shape as me Bundled in funneling misery by the…

I wish I was the moon in the sky O I wish I was the moon in the sky If I's the moon in the sky I'd be floating in your eye Wish I was the moon in the sky I wish I was the song on your lips O I wish I was the song on your lips If I's…

Sunday morning, no such luck My head is dizzy, it’s bright as fuck I’m dying I make my way to south French broad Lumbering wondering where she’s gone or something I see Sam he’s in the same shape as me Bundled in funneling misery by the…

Dian, you say the sun is going down But it's a ways across town I think we've got a little light left Dian, you say you miss me when we talk But I'm the only one who calls Ain’t it funny how that works out Dian, first your sister…

Spinning like the wheel Painted on the temple Does the wheel turn slowly Or is it me that moves? I can count the hours And I can name the prophets Kept like silver spoons Struck like wooden matches Should I call it sleep or divine…

Everyone is writing songs inside their heads Waking up from sleeping in their unmade beds I cleared out space in springtime to make room for the fall I wrote you words of kindness, but I won’t speak them at all The kudzu choked the hillside…

Spinning like the wheel Painted on the temple Does the wheel turn slowly Or is it me that moves? I can count the hours And I can name the prophets Kept like silver spoons Struck like wooden matches Should I call it sleep or divine…

Everyone is writing songs inside their heads Waking up from sleeping in their unmade beds I cleared out space in springtime to make room for the fall I wrote you words of kindness, but I won’t speak them at all The kudzu choked the hillside…