Mostly it feels like a waste So much laughter un-canned I'd forgotten the taste Don't make me go back All the plans we tiptoed around In quiet hours, Daffodil buds There is a reason The first nine months doesn't count
Sometimes it tears like a freight train Through a christening Displacing the new growth And making everything ugly Sometimes I want to make a home on it To look between the wheels I'm scared of being under I've started whistling in the mornings I like to hear the birds sing
Last night I dreamt that we lasted all the way 'til spring But now the fields are full of red and blue with nothing in between You can lead water to the daffodils
Mostly it feels like a waste So much laughter un-canned I'd forgotten the taste Don't make me—
Last night I dreamt that we lasted all the way 'til spring But now the fields are full of red and blue with nothing in between You can lead water to the daffodils But you can't make them drink
Compositores: Douglas Frost, Lewis Whiting, Lily Fontaine, Nicholas Eden