I remember the two dimples in the small of her back,
as she walked away from me 'cross those railroad tracks,
her boots did crunch and sink in the rocks around the wood,
while mine just stayed rooted to the spot to which i stood.
I tried to be a strong man i tried to be the one,
she could go to with a problem, i tried to be her gun
she's load me with her instincts and pull my hammer back,
squeeze along my trigger and i'd fire, with a crack.
Summer knees, come back please,
take me home petoskey stones.
summer knees, help me please,
if you can, lake Michigan.
I suppose it was my fear, i guess it was my pain,
that pulled her even closer, i was meant to entertain,
each sexy little notion, in her ocean that i took,
spun around and finally found a little nest inside her brook,
but the water kept on spinnin, she left me all alone,
crawled soaking up a beach made of smooth petoskey stones
but i built myself a home there made of better days and rum,
and i forget about the tempest that leaves in my ears this hum.
They say a man who lost his hand can still feel his fingers move,
its a surprise every time when he goes to reach a tool,
does that mean she was a part of me, a limb just like my hand,
severed from my body but my brain can't understand.
I think that must be it, that must be the reason why,
I can't fix this with a hammer, or cut it out with a knife,
you can mend a thing that's absent you just wish that it was back,
while you buckle at your knees, thinkin bout railroad tracks.
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