Suburban Plains

Whenever the time is right

I will think of you

Whatever I might find

I will think of you

Walking the black, steel rail across suburban plains

Watching the summer's hand bend the long, green blades

Hoping to stumble on the pieces of my youth

Cinnamon copper Quenn, still so flat and smooth

Pardon me, Your Majesty, for never stopping by

I can see you're lonely living life upon the line

So let this be the end of everything that could

I'm so tired of all the things I'll never know

Stop on the trestle bridge, Sixteen Mile below

Whetting it's appetite with the same old sticks and hopes

Are you happy upon your course, worn by centuries

Or searching beneath these stones for something else to be

Would you take me with you on uour cold and bumpy ride

If I hit the water then there's nothing to decide