Parallel lines in the lawn

Slows natures progress to a crawl

Out here in the west

Out here where the good sun sets

Ah, the weary never rest

Do nothing unless you do your best, they say

You brushed against my cheek

Bluebell, bindweed, broadleaf

Like burrs cling to our jeans

That moment stuck all over me

And I'm afraid to move

Afraid of what I might lose

Go on, go on without me

I will find my own way

But there will come soft rains

To wash whatever's left away

Parallel linеs in the lawn

Trimming back the overgrowth

Of somеthing I once knew

Something I saw clear in you

I'm a spirit fugitive

And I'm running from myself again

I will find my own way

I will find my own way

I will find my own way

I will find my own way

I will find my own way

I will find my own way

I will find my own way

I will find my own way

But there will come soft rains

To wash whatever's left away