Songtext von Mountain Laurels

From the western edge of highway one To the east of Appalachia I got my ticket baby here I come Following the Crows and colors Toward September A promise written with a nervous hand With a stroke of a shaky pen Bottled up and buried in the sand Castles built and Taken under Gone without a trace Watch the clouds along the coastal range Through the desert and the empty space In Pennsylvania you can almost taste The mountain laurels When I lay these flowers on this grave And do the math to find the final age I think of all the different ways Darling don't Be long in waiting The locks and every Window breaking The darkness won't be Long in taking You