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On Traveling
par
Richard Buckner
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Letra
Up above you darling (past the line, between the land), I'll call you from Vancouver just staring @ your picture till it's all that I can stand. This dream's a lil narrow, so I'm sticking to my guns while the wake-up calls keep coming (though sometimes, dearie, lord the thought of another one). Are you shaking? Are you sleeping? Yet, another weepy lil rager drowned down to the ring. It's hard a moon to swallow. You're drunk or you're dead under this swollen, swampy sky; when the thought of one more broken night is more than some'll ever shed.
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