The Cottonwood Tree

I'm a mud puddle boy, with grass on my jeans

The hayfields make homilies, daffodils sing

There's a place that I go, a secret I keep

Where nobody lives and everyone's free

Tell me, who is it listening? Who is it hears?

The tall grass is rustling between my ears

There's a place that I go where the rent is still cheap

Six feet under the cottonwood tree

A frog in my pocket, and the taste of a cloud

I'd love you forever if I only knew how

Hard saying, not knowing how to cry without eyes

How to sing with no lips, how to live when you die

If there's a place up in heaven for people like us

I don't want to go there, there's no one I trust

But I'm glad that you lied, and I'm glad I'm a fool

I'm happy to die, still trying to trust you

Oh, what a gift, all these things I don't know

The rooms in my house where nobody goes

But inside there's a tufted thing, lilting and twirling

Tilting and laughing, alight on the air

Tell me, who is it listening? Who is it hears?

The tall grass is rustling between my ears

There's a place that I go where my friends wait for me

Six feet under the cottonwood tree

Six feet under the cottonwood tree