The wires were wrapped

Around the tips of his fingers

But the pencil was working like brand new

And the storm was thickening

but his eyes were still glittering

and the aftermath he saw was you





Come on he said, take one of my pictures

You're from the West,

You can take me home

To your land of milk

And of honey

You can take me home.



And you were sitting right there

At the edge of a forest fire

Feverish golden hands

Touching tiny copper coins

And one by one as they passed by

You heard a whisper that sounded like a cry



Chorus



The memory is already five days old

You've got the picture

Held tight in a book

And you've got every intention

As to taking it home

You've got every intention,

Every intention



But nobody's listening at the corner store

And nobody's listening at the curb

You've got a firefighter

Drawing pictures of flamingos

Hoping they'll land somewhere else

On this earth



Chorus