It's a cold April night in Mississippi
They say the blackberries come to fruition
And I just want to see a band
With some of my friends
Inside
Where it's warm
But they say I'm not of age
And they know my identity's fake
So I'm left with no choice
Left with no choice
But to turn
And walk away
Well, I miss Elizabeth's hands
You don't, but I think she understands
Fingernails, like a well,
Trap the charcoal pastel
And I can't get them out of
My head
Yes, I smoke too many cigarettes
But what else can I do when upset?
Can't just sit at home
Call her up on the phone
Lay my head on the pillow
Just to chat
Because you see, she's overseas
I can't call her, but she can call me
And her days are so busy
She's living a dream
Yet she says she's still thinking
Of me