Climbing through the teeth of an old fruit tree
In the winter with a pocketknife
Cuttin’ through the bark, he could carve a heart
If his fingers weren’t as cold as ice.
She was sketching lines on a map in time with the rhythm of a westbound train.
I was waking up to the gypsy drums in my grandfather’s Chevrolet.
Running through a patch of rain drenched grass in her northwest emerald state.
A barefoot mess in a cotton dress with her dark hair in her face.
The Seminole wind on his sun burnt skin
Was a blanket meant to suffocate.
The Puget Sound couldn’t drown you out,
Couldn’t keep you half a world away!
(Hey!)
I don’t want a past that I can’t detach from the saltwater sins I’ve made.
So take that quill from the windowsill and we’ll rewrite every page.
No one has to know ‘bout seeds we’ve sown, ‘bout the fruit that wasn’t ripe.
Your fingers in the dark try to trace my heart as we watch it all turn white.
credits
released January 1, 2011
Emily Lenck - violin, percussion
Trey Tomlinson - piano
Rosemarie Palmer - vocals
Trey Penton - vocals, guitar, percussion, lyrics
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