the Painted Bunting

Love is like water, it comes rushing in

But it's tie to the moon, draws it back again

A late autumn fire, smoke sweet and thin

I would sit through the cold just to breathe you in

Old souls, getting older

Old souls, getting older

So here I watch from a wire, set overhead

And it won't be that long till I fall again

No, it won't be that long till I fall again