When others speak of love
I don't know who they are
I don't know how they really feel
and I don't know if they've cried.
How can I share their feelings?
How can I trust their joy?

Not all 100 hearts are valentines
lined up outside your door,
so call them in for tea and cakes
while I explain some more.

10 are the hearts of couriers,
each one brave and true,

It's always in my mind and I wonder...
why the past calls out to me?
Why do those people there in the mist
always try to talk to me?
Why do they walk with me?
What can they possible want of me?

I just heard the fairies from Kalamazoo
tap on the window; they were asking for you.
I rose from my lonely seat on the floor
and asked them, "Please, fly round to the door."

I fell asleep on a train in Texas
and I dreamed of Tennessee.
I woke up in Alabama
with you sitting across from me.
I wondered how I got to Heaven (never saw the Nashville sign),

Thanksgiving Day begins early in a rush and a hustle,
with company coming the kitchen's abustle.
The turkey's roasting and the ham is glazed,
the eggs are deviled and Mama seems dazed.

Beyond the gate
the world waits,
thought it doesn't stay for me.

I hesitate.
I anticipate.
I fear what I cannot see.

I hear it call
beyond the wall,
though it never says my name.

In the woman I found the child
and I played with her awhile,
but the laughter stopped long before
I had my fill.

In the child I found your Mother,
as we talked and hugged each other,

"Love for sale.
Love for sale.
Say, Mister, could I interest you in some love for sale?
No, my sale isn't going well.
I guess it's not hard to tell
that everyone knows my love is used.

I was walking through a cemetary
late one cold and windy afternoon
thinking of the distended egos
that demand such cold monuments to their doom
for here and there in brittle splendor

Towering, rolling, floating mountains,
barren white monoliths of ice,
riding gracefully up, up on endless swells.
Ancient ballet masters dancing
in step to a soundless air,

I'm a carousel horse
and I go round the course,
yes, I circle around all day

and I go up and down
as I go round and round
while the "oom pah pah" music plays

You can have a good time

who calls my name above the whispering windsong
and rustles yellow leaves near my window
while the weeping willow sways beneath a winter moon

mournful ghosts of forgotten dreams drift

This heart's not mine to give away,
you stole it from me yesterday.
I wouldn't really mind
if only you'd been kind
and not made it hurt so bad today.

Last night you said so many things;

Fairies in the arbor.
Fairies in the tree.
Fairies in the hanging vines
gleeful as can be.

Fairies in the fountain
diving from the sill.
Fairies running atop the fence