Passing Afternoon 
Iron And Wine.
Yeah, well here it is. It's easy but still nice to have all typed up. 
Love always,
chrismagowan@hotmail.com
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There are times that walk from you Like some passing afternoon 
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Summer warmed the open window Of her honeymoon 
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And she chose a yard to burn But the ground remembers her 
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Wooden spoons, her children stir her Bougainvillea blooms 
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There are things that drift away Like our endless numbered days 
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Autumn blew the quilt right off the Perfect bed she made 
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And she's chosen to believe In the hymns her mother sings 
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Sunday pulls it's children from the Piles of fallen leaves 
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There are sailing ships that pass All our bodies in the grass 
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Springtime calls her children 'til she Let's 'em go at last 
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And she's chosen where to be Though she's lost her wedding ring 
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Somewhere near her misplaced jar of Bougainvillea seeds 
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There are things we can't recall Blind as night that finds us all 
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Winter tucks her children in her Fragile china dolls 
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But my hands remember hers Rolling around the shady ferns 
A                            E                    D              E
Naked arms are secrets still like Songs I'd never learned 
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There are names across the sea Only now I do believe 
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Sometimes with the window closed She'll sit and think of me 
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But she'll mend his tattered clothes And they'll kiss as if they know 
A                            E                    D              E           
A baby sleeps in all our bones So scared to be alone