at the end of the line
i'll remember my roots
and the time i spent watering them
getting mud on the soles of my boots
and at the end of the line
i'll remember yours too
like a tree, my memories grow 'round
the time that i spend with you
and you hate the way the fitted sheet just won't stay
but honey, that won't matter in the dirt where we lay
and i know you don't like to think that way
so i'll keep it all tucked away
darling i can't decide
where i want to be left
watching here from the grass near the road
where you and i first met
or marked with a stone
above the estuary
looking over the great blue expanse,
caught up in that salty breeze
will you hate the way that i sleep all day?
as i become part of that dirt where we lay
'cause you know i can't wait to feel that way
but i need a second here so i'll wait
at the end of the line
i'll be covered with roots
feeling raindrops through my fingertips
under somebody else's boots
and i'll love the way that we sleep all day
impressions wearing thin in the dirt where we lay
but you'll be right there watching frame by frame
and i'll feel safe
tucked away
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