Thrift Store - Bowerbirds

No use selling those lonely chairs

To the void they go, and back again

Now how do I keep framing these stories then?

Feeling wild and wrought

By some future hand

Where we swung from the cables of evening’s rope

Where the nighthawks come tumbling through the pink and gold

Tell me, how do we get back to feeling the glow

Of the early years?

Now, I had the fortune of growing up wild

Beneath a willow tree, Midwestern sky

Kept on running those little boy thighs

Through the fields out back with the cabbage whites

Where we swung from the cables of evening’s rope

Where the nighthawks come tumbling through the pink and gold

Tell me, how do we get back to feeling the glow

Of the early years?

What’s encased in this treasure box?

Some foreign coins and a mirrored watch

Now I can’t quite trace these memories lost

In a rattled time I just rattled off

Could we swing from the cables of evening’s rope?

Where the nighthawks come tumbling through the pink and gold

Tell me, how do we get back to feeling the glow

Of the early years?

Call my ex-lovers, call them one by one

Was I a good man, were we on to something?

Did the light come willing through the open door?

Did we take our time, did we need much more?

Did we swing from the cables of evening’s rope?

Where the nighthawks come tumbling through the pink and gold

I’ve erased this history and replaced it with hope

For the years to come