Paroles de Picturebook
Gray, rounded stones cover these streetsAnd scold our feet with every print we leave
White picket fences fade to black and
Relentlessly hold the memories that we lack
Tall, pepper trees send our minds to be free
And mold seats for the summer heat.
Short-tempered children shoot their guns
At the Indians and quit games they've just begun
Keen to my surroundings, I gather my own findings
And write them all in this book
Seen only, you doubt me, I'd rather find pictures
Without me that I took of you
Days when the main event is rest
We try our best to make the most of it, most days
With nights as cold as ice
A blanket should suffice
And maybe a movie or two
And all I can think of are the past summers' peaceful times
And all I can write down are things that remind me of this town During summer months, I stayed at home
All that I owned was a picture book to call a friend
I love how you said, "I'm here 'til the end."
And mold seats for the summer heat.
Short-tempered children shoot their guns
At the Indians and quit games they've just begun
Keen to my surroundings, I gather my own findings
And write them all in this book
Seen only, you doubt me, I'd rather find pictures
Without me that I took of you
Days when the main event is rest
We try our best to make the most of it, most days
With nights as cold as ice
A blanket should suffice
And maybe a movie or two
And all I can think of are the past summers' peaceful times
And all I can write down are things that remind me of this town During summer months, I stayed at home
All that I owned was a picture book to call a friend
I love how you said, "I'm here 'til the end."
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