The story's been getting old— I'm sorry I wrote this a year ago; I burned all the copies And so it goes; that's how the dice are rolled Red flags hidden beneath the folds These trembling hands are cold and clammy But mirroring half a smile, uncanny, uncanny And so it goes; that's how the dice are rolled Red flags hidden beneath the folds Painted fingers tapping on cherry Painted lids blink in morse I see the western rain in your eyes I see those late night lilac skies Dots and dashes mark where it's buried Let's go digging tonight I see the starlight spill through the blinds I hear the canyon call in the night Canary flew the coop— bad timing If Mary still loves you, keep climbing, keep climbing And so it goes, that's how the dice are rolled Red flags hidden beneath the folds Painted fingers tapping on cherry Painted lids blink in time I saw the western rain in your eyes I saw those late night lilac skies Where are all the things that I buried? Can I say that I tried Reading the words and tracing the lines Painting the lands that you described? You lived in the mountains It treated you well, if not for the cold air And we know there are places Where it doesn't snow, but we wouldn't want to live there And when your closet is all out of space Let your hair grow to cover your face Hide your heart in the gold in your ear I can hear, I can hear, I can hear All the memories that we replaced All the sentences I chose to waste I said I'd have stories for you in a year Now we're here, now we're here, now we're here Painted fingers tapping on cherry Painted lids blink in time I saw the western rain in your eyes I saw those late night lilac skies Where are all the things that we buried? Can we say that we tried Reading the words and tracing the lines Painting the lands that you described?