I suppose you expect me to sing about my feelings

About an old friend a long lost lover

Or how I'm scared of getting older

Yes, I'm scared of getting older

But I'd rather sing of simple things that have nothing to do with me

Like a bird in the sky or the moon on a hill

Or the way the dust settles on your window sill

But these simple things are not simple things at all

And could tell stories all about people I made in my mind

I could sing peotry in fables

And you'd listen to all of my lies, all of my lies

But I'd rather sing of simple things that have nothing to do with me

Like a bird in the sky or the moon on a hill

Or the way the dust settles on your window sill

But these simple things not simple things at all

How do I sing of love when I don't understand the lines on my hand

And how do I know my soul

When I can't understand why I'm here, who I am

Or the bird in the sky or the moon on a hill or

The way the dust settles on your window sill

No I don't understand, but maybe I'll one day, maybe I will

Maybe I will

Maybe I will