I never thought you were the letter writing type,

So now I see the words you chose, the way you write.

So I started to write back about the trees in the snow,

And I saw a bird, couldn't say what it was

but I thought you'd know.

You always surprised me.



And if I wrote you,

If I wrote you,

You would know me,

And you would not write me again.



And when the spring came and flooded all the streams,

It's like how you got the night you told me all your dreams.

And when the barn roof sagged after an icy bout,

It's like how you shrugged when you knew

the truth was the only way out,

But not the only way,



And if I wrote you,

If I wrote you,

You would know me,

And you would not write me again.



We drew our arms around the bastard sons,

We never would drink to the chosen ones,

Well you know the way I left was not the way I'd planned,

But I thought the world needed love and a steady hand.

So I'm steady now.



And I'm so happy,

I had to tell you,

And I love you,

And you will not write me again.

You will not write me again,

You will not write me again.