birds of a feather and a featherless cap poor lovers breed songs in a two-room flat moist hands fold to pray for a painless truth we dance on the tracks of a train called youth
truth`s on the table like a toxic spill and we wrestle in the sheets with our own freewill if we never shake hands with a phantom called fame I`ll still have your picture in a picture frame
if you should fall fall on me
forty-acre farm we can call our own with a chocolate lab and no telephone the full moon`s leering in a lover`s swoon and the apple tree`s swaying to a windy tune
(save me I`m falling for you)
but we won`t get to heaven if we just sit still if we don`t cry murder maybe no one will we`re riding tandem down Sycamore hill if we hit the brakes we`re gonna take a big spill
if you should fall fall on me
and if my hand were taken hold of I`d slip away with you love slip away with you love
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