A balladeer

you see, I have this picture, all perfect and pretty in which all is all that it seems with a white picket fence home away from the city to live the American Dream and it's you girl that I see beside...

the copper shades you wore were very big and green and I was only feather-light above the engine-roar in the smell of gasoline you'd make sure I'd hold on tight and there we'd go with no direction...

damn, this is bad - this is so bad I get out of the crash thinking no one survived big eyes from the backseat to my surprise I see all three alive you're losing blood in the grass there on the side of...

you rave on about a car drive somewhere out in Germany you had dinner near some river like you can't get that with me and it all sounds so familiar I make sure to bite my tongue it's done nothing else...

skipping streets in springtime chasing sunlight on my bike and I could chalk the sidewalk any color that I liked blowing dandelions fairground rides and climbing trees and mother's kiss or candy for...

rumor had it you'd move abroad about a year ago this guy from work he knows this girl you know so I guess you finished school and you got your degree the ostrich thing worked for you now let it work...

look at you now in such a rush but one big step behind you need a clue now all blinded by the gypsy of your mind if you give me your hand - I'll do what I can to get you calm by making up the meaning...