Old Soul

A gray new day leaks through the window
An old soul song on the alarm clock radio

We leave before the leaves have time to settle
The broken glass swept off the avenue

And all the way home I hold my camera like a bible
Praying that it has captured some kind of truth

Now I stand nervous next to you in the dark room.
I drop my paper into your water
And all begins to bloom

—–

And just when I get so lonesome I can’t speak
I see some flowers on a hill side
Like a wall of new color TVs