| Sitting there across the table I don't know who you are. If only once I could be able to make it not so far, but it's 75 cents of New Hampshire, not enough to quench the fire for memory can't be erased, and it of you I cannot tatse. Not enough to be the liar. On that first mountain I saw you, and on that last I left you there. True, ignorance is bliss to many, but baby why should we care? Cause it's 75 cents of New Hampshire and my eyes, they are no drier. It's so hard to be the one who can stay around, but so safe to be the flier. The only times we knew were late, but I'll always have your smile. Not enough, but more ain't our fate as I cross the miles, all those miles. I've failed the trials up and down the piles of shit that I have filed under categorical imposibility, always to hold you deep in me all the way across 75 cents of New Hampshire, feelin not, but sighin. Thinking back on what was missed, the lips I left unkissed, another sad memory thus sired. |
| 75 Cents of New Hampshire... |