Walnut Street

I've got a little house on Walnut Street The nights are quite, the morning's sweet. Got an old wood floor beneath my feet, That somebody's grandfather built. I bet he used to keep his lucky stripes on this windowsill, While he planned and worked that wood until He made silk from the yellow pine. I've got a paper that says this house is mine, But it ain't...it belongs to time. With morning at the window, sometimes I swear this old room glows And somewhere between what you can and cannot see, That old man is here. The neighbor lady sings all day long. She only stops at night to start at dawn. I swear she only knows about three songs, But I find myself singing to one of her sad old country tunes. It reminds me of an afternoon...I was a kid and it was Saturday. Just me and my dad drivin' out to the lake. Now he's just so far away... With morning at the window, sometimes I swear this old room glows And somewhere between what you can and cannot see, (4X) He's right here... Last night I dreamed that I could fly. If I held my arms just right, I'd stay treetop high. Hell, I may just be a bird sometimes. Hanging right above it all ; a bird with a sad and lonesome call And any moment I might fall, for you... again. With morning at the window, sometimes I swear this old room glows And somewhere between what you can and cannot see, (4X) You're still here.