Great Blue Heron

Winter is upon me, it’s scratching at the back of my throat

And paper pedal pendulums are swinging to and fro

And I know that you are sorry, the moon told me so

There’s a great blue heron

He’s telling me it’s time to go

And parts of pieces of me are wishing, wishing to stay

But I’ll never find a new home sitting at your grave

Sitting at your grave

And backwards moments, I know all too well

And cigarette smoke silence drives me off of this hill

But big bus windows bring me home to you

And a tired conversation, a much needed bowl of stew

And parts of pieces of me are wishing you’d let me go

I warned myself this would happen, where’d that warning go?

Where’d that warning go?

Where'd our mornings go?