Wishbone

All of the things to plan and to do
But there's one that won't leave my mind
Triage the trees till I find
The roots are still there, but they're blind

Soil in the sink, but I never did think
That the leaves would grow back again
Happy and full like the drain
Coffee in bed, pillow stains

Ooh
It's all but, all but done
Ooh
It's all but, all but done

So much is heard from this little bird
But the grapevine is bare by mid-June
Back by spring, sing your tune

Our pinkies are locked like the wishbone lost stock
But we carried right on with our play
Lock eyes till they close for the day
Better watch out, I might stay



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