Pick me up in midday sun
we'll drive through town and shout at the top of our lungs.
This chance to live the things we'd loved to have done.
Like we were young again,
and marveling at the man-made,
cut-and-paste, settled-on beauty.
Dreaming we could lay our eyes
somewhere that's never known his hand.
Where I want to lay my head
when all is long forgotten.
Pick me a song on your guitar.
It doesn't need clever notes,
or a rousing chorus,
just enough blood on the strings
to match what is found in your best stories.
Pick me a song, a little pick me up.
Let's do lunch when the sun's gone down,
no one's on the town, and we have a few drinks in us.
A chance to escape the holes we've dug for ourselves,
like we were young again,
and mistaking all the man-made,
bucket-filled, accepted beauty
in sight for somewhere better
that has never known his hand.
Where we'll set our stories
when this all fades into mystery.
Pick me a song on your guitar.
It doesn't need clever notes,
or a rousing chorus,
just enough blood on the strings
to match what is found in your best stories,
and the worst things you know…
Yeah, well you know.
Pick me up
we'll drive until we don't recognize
city names
or the highway numbers on the signs.
Find our way
back home following some other route.
