I wish I could take you away from it all.
Our days could be spent in a van with blankets and snack foods, gasoline store goodies.
We get out of our car just to stop and stare at the stars.
An apartment on 58th street, somewhere in the city.
It’s small and cozy.
The curtains came with the place, they have dust bunnies on them and running off them.
A tiny matress on the floor. A tiny bed and tiny sheets.
Cold floors touching our feet.
And I see it.
And I smell it. The coffee in the morning.
Vanilla frosting on your nose and I’m laughing while we bake a cake at one in the morning.
And I’m baked. And can’t focus.
Too high to dream. But it’s okay cause you’re all I see.
Never could focus. Never will.
Sunshine pouring down on us in the early A.M.
You’re still asleep, hand falling off the bed.
You snore and I giggle.
And I just look out the window at the newly rising sun.
“If we don’t leave this town we might never make it out.” The words run circles, running marathons, in my head.
And I think of driving a van or a pick up truck anywhere but here sometimes. And sometimes I wish I could just be in your bed.
Or feet on the dashboard while you sit in a driver’s seat. I smoke a ciggerete and we listen to your music on the cassette.
And I’ve hitchhiked on pavement. And I’ve bloodied up my feet. And I’ve seen the world, or least what I was able to see.
But if I could do it with you.
Well that would be something sweet.
Sleeping in your arms, even in the street.
A toothbrush and warm socks, that’s all I really have to my name anyway.
And you have that old school vinyl all wrapped up in a case, cause it’s your favorite thing.
And I see it. And I see us.
Somewhere far away, somewhere happy.
Somewhere down the street where the ocean and the horizon meet.
We are the stars in the sky.
We could go anywhere if we just start tonight.
Lemon Ghost 