Letters

Wrote me a letter, open late last night. Blue ink on the back of a photograph, black and white. Her sweet face beneath the redwood tree. Left me with my worried mind. Worried mind and me. And I roll and I tumble, beat it over and over again. Something that she said with the photograph, she didn't say with the ballpoint pen. Now I'm learning how to worry. Never was a worryin' kind. She left me in Texas. Texas with a worried mind. And I roll and I tumble, beat it over and over again. Something that she said with the photograph, she didn't say with the ballpoint pen. Now I'm learning how to worry. Never was a worryin' kind. She left me in Texas. Texas with a worried mind.