Counting Days
John Tatum
On the way towards your descent
I could count every flower on the hill
The curtains drawn on your content
There's nothing left for me to forgive again.
It's cold
In your bed
And those flowers have long been dead
But if you wait
You can see
There's a place where I used to be
You want to make me spin
You want to hold me in
Counting days till you come in
I haven't lost you I just misplaced you
However bright I could not tell
The window open no explanation
You're right
In the sun
And the dreaming has come undone
If you wait
You can see
There's no reason to disagree
You want to make me spin
You want to hold me in