If I was a crow, I'd fly the roads that wind between these places
Over back lanes and weathered veins where creeks have left their traces
Fruit trees planted long ago still bloom every other season
The fence won't keep the rabbits out
The gates always open for some damn reason
I follow and trace the coastline to a place that's worn and storied
At the end of their chain, the great lakes drain into the old St. Lawrence
Oh, we've held on to the old St. Lawrence

A party or two just left a million dreamers
Who woke to find the coffee on
Though the smoke is gone, the poetry lingers
If you're too tucked away and you can't see the sun
If you've something to say, but you ain't got no one
Whatever you do, if you have something to say
If you have to, or use your thumb, just get here, just come
If you come out at night, you'll see the light and where to make the turn off
But do call ahead, we might be in bed or riding with our clothes off
Riding under wallpaper
Though poets die, a lullaby still whispers faintly in the room
If you're too tucked away and you can't see the sun
If you've something to say, but you ain't got no one
Whatever you do, if you have to, or use your thumb, just get here, just come here, just come here

Whatever you do, if you have to, or use your thumb, just get here, just come here, just come here
If you're too tucked away and you can't see the sun
If you've something to say, but you ain't got no one
If your hands are getting cold and you don't know what you've become
If your hands are getting cold and you don't know what you've become
If I was a crow, I'd fly the rose
There'd wind between these places
Where poems were read and hungers fed
And hearts were warm and gracious
Did we keep a guestbook somewhere
Or are the records fading
We'll make a vow to start one now
There is still time, but it's not waiting