Strings of Grass

Like a song you have sung
Ever since you were young, little baby boy
The words tattooed upon your tongue
You can tell the right from wrong
Know your mothers and fathers of generations
You know where you belong
All though this song is drifting like a gas
Played on a guitar made of driftwood
Strings of grass
It’s hard to catch, impossible to stop
Now, go with the flow, with the rhythm, the rhyme
The stampin' on the floor
I put a chalk in my hand, draw a land
Draw the lines for rivers and streets
Raise a mountain made of concrete
Grab a stone, pick some straws, build a shelter
Please come here, I’ll let you in
I hold you tight against my skin
Oh love, the hissing sound of you
Whining like a harsh hymn
Howling like a blues
I know you’re impossible to stop
So I go with the flow, with the rhythm, the rhyme
The stampin' on the floor
Let it blow, let it blow
Just don’t let me know
Where it will blow
Let it blow, let it blow
Just don’t let me know
Where we will go
Hold my breath, I can’t control
I’m sliding, falling down in a hole
Oh, wow! Oh, man, love is like no other song
Oh, please let them in
Let the choir sing
To the beat, to the flow
The stampin' on the floor
Now what about the things I’ve learnt
I stare at the blue sky
Potatoes getting burnt
I can’t explain, but nothing seems too far away
I can have it if I’d like
I think I can, if I dare
Like a song you have sung
Ever since you were young, little baby boy
The words tattooed upon your tongue
You must know the right from wrong
Know the rhythm, the rhyme, the beating
The stampin' on the floor
Let it blow, let it blow
Just don’t let me know
Where it will blow
Let it blow, let it blow
Just don’t let me know
Where we will go
Where we will go