Under the traintracks By an old box of Marlboro's I'll find something to read There's a story through the thunder That I'm dying to tell Except that I'm a close whisper Cowering with these pictures Painted on my mind By summers when we were Tall grass Waving in the wind Easy and free Now I feel heavy Beneath these stones A single blade curling Through gravel Towards the shaking day With a shovel I'll find you Going downward Since you cannot see Don't sit quiet there Laugh when I tell a joke Cry when I say something sad There's nothing in a story Unless you react We'll grow together Until these tracks crack and fall apart Then we'll be free again Swaying softly Letting our stories Be the wind