On my trail歌词
Stories
That
Get
Told
Josh
Pyke.I
should
see
you
walk
in
from
our
gardenThe
sun
a
soporific
on
your
shoulder
bladesAnd
you
should
kick
your
shoes
off
at
the
doorAnd
mark
me
with
the
pollen
on
your
fingertips.Instead
December
brought
the
pouring
rainThe
whimsy
of
the
seasonDampened
by
the
dayAnd
sometimes
changes
is
incrementalTo
the
point
we
can
convince
ourselvesWe're
still
the
same.But
as
the
street
lights
flicker
onUnder
skin
and
boneWe're
all
awashWith
something
borrowedAnd
everything
I
wantIs
at
rest
between
these
walls.Someday
we'll
all
beStories
that
get
toldBut
told
incorrectlyBut
our
trail
won't
grow
coldOur
trail
won't
growOur
trail
won't
grow
cold,
cold.So
now
we
watch
you
walking
in
our
gardenAnd
what
a
many
splendoured
sight
you
are
to
seeAnd
there'll
be
dancing,
there'll
be