Lyrics

The way you like to show me pictures of your grass.
Or how you swish around that extra bit of water in your glass.
That latent Appalachian drawl.
I’m jealous of the leaves that fall,
And get to touch the shadow that you cast.

I don’t remember every detail,
But I remember,
How it felt to finally hold your hand.
Two long-forgotten trusties jumping off the guardrail.
They made a break for it but never made a plan.
And I couldn’t tell you how it all began.
But I remember.

The warp and weft of your favorite pair of jeans.
The way the denim’s worn out in that spot above your knee.
From shifting up and down on those old West Virginia mountain roads.
That’s what I’ve always made myself believe.

I don’t remember every detail,
But I remember,
Chickens, wine, and jelly jars one night.
We breathed it in like diabetics at a bake sale.
Wondering how something so destructive felt right.
It was as fleeting as a westbound satellite.
But I remember.

You like coffee, but you tend to take it black.
It’s pure and subtle like those freckles on the small of your back.
Your clairvoyant super senses,
Pick up strange coincidences,
Like a blind man picking winners at the track.

I don’t remember every detail,
But I remember,
A moment on the corner in the rain.
I soaked you up and fell apart just like a cattail.
Faced the headwinds like a tin foil weather vane.
It was a blurry watercolor hurricane.
But I remember.

The way you watch the planets and the stars.
That little smile that sprouts up when you let down your guard.
If this world’s a simulation,
With a thousand permutations,
How’d we wind up in the one that’s so damn hard?

I don’t remember every detail,
But I remember,
Wishing I could think of what to say.
I crashed into you like a live oak through a fence rail.
Left you in pieces and then I tried to rot away.

I don’t remember telling you,
Or ever really knowing when I loved you.
But it’s one thing I never could quit.
While it kills me every morning when I wonder what you’re up to,
It’s even worse to think of all I might forget.

I don’t remember every detail,
But I remember,
Walking through a graveyard next to you.
I gave up drinking but I still can taste that sweet ale that we shared.
I buy candles ‘cause they smell like your perfume.

What we had might only ever be a tall tale.
Sweet darlin’ girl that doesn’t make it any bit less grand.
It was a volatile old prohibition cocktail.
A beauty of a full house from a couple lousy hands.
We hung a paper moon together on a bent nail.
Now I feel its gravity no matter where stand.
And I couldn’t tell you how it all began.
But I remember.