1855

What would walter do if he'd run into you

Laying down among the blades of grass

He'd turn the pages slow as histories of snow

Speaking like each word would be his last

So I give you a ring made of fiddle string

And I can hear the trumpets from the hills

The words I love the best are the words that you undress

As flowers crowd the open windowsills

Everything depends on a grove where the river bends

Where I imagine waking up with you

With you and I alive in 1855

Today the skies are colorblind and blue

The lighthouse keeper cheered the old man and his beard

But he swallowed up the last of all our gin

He stumbled home alone to the shipwrecks and the storm

Wishing he was where your voice had been

Everything depends on the time when the money ends

When we ain't got a penny or a clue

With you and I alive in 1855

Today the skies are colorblind and blue

Everything depends on the way that you move your hands

And draw the curtains wide to see the view

With you and I alive in 1855

Today the skies are colorblind and blue