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from golden
sewerperson & Eric Godlow
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Eric, E-Eric, look at me
So who knows (Uh-huh) where we'll be?
On tin boats (Yeah, tin boats) come morning (Come morning)
We sit all alone in suffering (In su—)
He lets go to make room for new dreams (Eh, dreams)
When home (Home) becomes a feeling (Oh)
These warm roads (Roads) become healing
Who knows (Knows) where we'll be? (I don't)
Though books close, his still needs an ending
We thrive from golden snow