I have a picture, out of focus
A group of my friends when I was twelve
It was taken in my back yard
The swimming pool behind us
Late nights sitting
In a room under the stars
Riding through the back streets
The moon follows the car
Well it haunts me just a little
How much is just plain gone
Some are dead and I’m relying
On getting lost in that feeling.
And the quarry is full of water
It filled up so fast
I remember standing near it
How deep and empty it could be
I made a lemon cake
For no good reason
I threw in the rest of me
Maybe I never tell them
It will go to the grave with me
What is sacred
And it is Sunday, the sun is rising
Imagining what it will be like
Imagine what will they say
When you hear it
What will you tell them
Tell them about you and me
Maybe I will never tell them
Maybe it will go with me to my grave
I have a picture, out of focus
A group of my friends when I was twelve
It was taken in my back yard
The swimming pool behind us
Late nights sitting
In a room under the stars
Riding through the back streets
The moon follows the car
Well it haunts me a little
How much is just plain gone
Some are dead and I’m relying
On getting lost in that feeling.
And the quarry is full of water
It filled up so fast
I remember standing near it
How deep and empty it could be
I made a lemon cake
For no good reason
I threw in the rest of me
Maybe I never tell them
It will go to the grave with me
What is sacred
And it is Sunday, the sun is rising,
Imagining what it will be like
Imagine what will they say
When you hear it
What will you tell them
Tell them about you and me
Maybe I will never tell them
Maybe it will go with me to my grave
