Forty Five Degrees
Another day in late September
Trembling gold and the weather's mild
A rusted car someone's abandoned
Hobbled leafs and decaying miles
[Chorus]
And I smiling to myself
Waving with my free hand
Coasting down a slope at forty five degrees
I think I'll buy a motorcycle
Find a place to be alone
It's strange to see all of these places
And never really get to find you own
I witnessed sermons in the half light
Muted tones and glowing skin
I packed a bag of bones and ashes
Some leave off where I begin
