Postcards of Places and Things
Life here at the campsite
Sixty thousand miles from home
I can't believe the caves
I can't believe the graves
Meanwhile in a city so very far away
He takes a glimpse through venetian blinds
And views this picture in his mind
And just when I feel neglected
He cooks it up - sends it off - delivers it soon
And then I show the folks the wonder
and the gift he has for drawing up those
Postcards of places and things he's never visited before
Postcards of places I know he's always gonna be a star
with those Postcards of places
Nice to know he's watching when I'm feeling small
Met him through a window on some lonely barren plane
Where words are never spoke and dreams are never broke
I - I was a blank space lost and feeling cold
He pulled me in through his color wheel
I lost my sense of what was real
And just when I felt sedated he grabbed a pen,
He pinned me down caressing my face
Until it brought me back the wonders of a child in a floating frame, he drew
Postcards of places and things he's never visited before
Postcards of places I know he's always gonna be the star
with those Postcards of places
Nice to know he's watching when I'm feeling small
Nice to know he's watching, keeping me at home
Writer/s: John Tabacco
