From the recording Seasons

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Ain’t it funny
The things we remember
The ones we imagine
And those we choose to forget

She was fourteen
When she was born
Yeah, she must have been
There’s too much space before

Only stories
Her siblings told
When she used to talk to them
Before the truth took hold with

More than I could ever tell

We were a sweet thing
In the first place
Before I could pronounce her name
Or recognize her sad face

Then her depth grew
Her dark beauty too
A blue moonlight
On a shipwreck
Off of Gaspesie

More than I could ever tell

It’s a retroactive romance when you’re a sucker for broken hearts
See I’m in love with new beginnings so I put an end to things I start
I’d been hypnotized by her pathos
As she dangled like a pocket watch
She had everything I wanted
But it was everything I got

She danced like a moth in mid-October
While I glowed like a wood-smoke cabin
And spoke of cornucopias, a warmth and the fantasy of home
But I couldn’t house her urgent wings
Barred her scars and frequent faltering
At the start those sparks were reeling
My breath stealing
But now I write from the ghost of a feeling
In dark appealing for art to heal me
I’m smarter than that
I don’t pray but I’m kneeling
Revealing stark weakness
Crude heart I’m concealing
You reap what you sow
See love grows but lies rot
And I wish I could be an honest man
But I’m not

More than I could ever tell