Dogs

Running like dogs, we're helpless lovers. We lay in the fog and steal the covers. It's so much colder under cover. The mornings are long and hell seems empty. She's singing her songs, Sad ones make her happy. People say we've been gone too long, But dogs just have a way with leaving. Train to the shore, then north to portland. Always going too far just to feel important. Through the night we sleep alone, Waiting for the morning to call us lazy. We still got our black jeans on singing songs to lovely ladies. I can still hear my fathers voice Tell me that I should slow Down