Well the trees, they spill their secrets.
They tell me, “Take your time. You’re not in any rush.
But kid, your roots, need time to spread.
You need to see the world, you can’t stay stuck here long.

Well it’s written in pages with music notated.
Treble and bass clef, the chorus sings it out.
And I’m flipping through photos to remember my own face.
I’m lost, not in this place, I’m crying and singing out:
We’re still who we were when…

In the sky is a painted canvas
And all the fireflies reflect the patterns of the stars
And on that western wind travels that scent again
Sends me right back to a broke and beaten porch.

Well it’s written in pages with music notated.
Treble and bass clef, the chorus sings it out.
And I’m flipping through photos to remember my own face.
I’m lost, not in this place, I’m crying and singing out:
We’re still who we were when…

…the world began to spin,
and lights began to dim.
We’re growing up but losing all we had.

The world began to spin,
And lights began to dim.
We’re moving on and forgetting all our past.

The world began to spin,
And lights began to dim.
We’re taking off, but leaving all our bags.

The world began to spin,
Reality sets in.
As this place, it moves from my present to my past