#folk

Another Sunday afternoon and I don't know what to do. I'm looking at the sky, thinking how you'd spot the moon.

The farmer's market is busy; they're selling pickles by the jar. I thought of buying you some fruit, but I went home to my guitar.

I know I'll be OK; I'm just trying to find my way. There's so much I know now I never quite knew how to say.

I thought of paying you a visit; your neighborhood's not too far. But I don't know what you'd do, so I went home to my guitar.

I'm remembering the plans we never tried to give a chance. What was it all about-- it all seems a little funny now.

The night is falling hard; someone's singing in a bar. I thought of writing you a song, so I went home to my guitar.