Dee Carstensen The Map
You were the first time I didn’t settle
for less than a perfect dream
yours was the first kiss that made my heart melt
like a hollywood ending
even though my heart will twist
and turn the whole way through
please bare with me as it separates in two
Maybe it’s the cloud passing by the sun
maybe it’s the child that hasn’t come
but we’re travelers, and we’re weary, weary
As I sit here touching cities
on a map of New York state
the days not yet half over
but the darkness feels so late
you fold that map between us
wet and wrinkled from my tears
you’re doubting us in silence
until the darkness clears
Maybe it’s the cloud passing by the sun
maybe it’s the child that hasn’t come
or what the maker of the map has left undone
god only knows, that these cities can’t sustain us
just one twisted sign post
and you’re half a life away
but I am convinced, that this map was meant to join us
the roads are the clue, they branch out to meet you
Maybe it’s the cloud passing by the sun
maybe it’s the child that hasn’t come
but we’re travelers, and we’re weary, weary
Maybe it’s the cloud passing by the sun
maybe it’s the child that hasn’t come
or what the maker of the map has left undone
