A Capella since we're still stuck in Bozeman. In case you're interested in reading along: The flute, the lute, the clarinet, The tiny trumpets, mountains peaking, Faucet leaking, old heart weeping, Plucking silky petals on a ratty sofa chair, I counted all the ceiling tiles, Plucked the loose ends from my jacket, Found Cinderella cleaning up An IHOP where I went to take a leak. Oh didn't you know that I'd be needing you? Here up where the air is clear My mind's a spinning windmill, Oh it's sad that there is nothing for me here. I got your letter saying that you're Traveling to Cuba then you'll move To Berlin for who knows how long. It didn't say my mothers fine, my brother Wonders how you are, and dad is curious if you are Living up to all of your potential. Oh didn't you know that I'd be wanting you, In the arms of other lovers and their peers. My minds a lonesome haystack, Oh it's sad that there is nothing for me here. The arrogant bull rider, and the Manicured barbarella, P.t. Barnum, Alice Cooper, The graphologist my aunt, I made a daisy chain of all The receipts that I saved, and all the Flowers that I pressed I found Scattered on the floor of my hotel room. Oh didn't you care that I'd be losing you? Your face is like the shadow of a fear. My mind's a reckless wanderer, Oh it's sad that there is nothing for me here. Comments (3)