Smokehouse - Lisbeth Scott

I am a tight wire

You hold me like a line to throw

You give me something that baites me

When the tide is low

All around I hear the trains coming in

One by one

But you don’t come, no you don’t come

She makes a smokehouse

You cannot find the door to leave

The priest is puttering and humming

There’s something up his sleeve

The sun is looking gray today

And the birds can’t find their way

And so you stay, and so you stay

I need a moment

To whisper something in you ear

I got a piece of your puzzle

To me you are so clear

Some take and then they go and some flow

Like a river in the sand

Baby I know you can

Come on I know you can

Baby I know you can

Come on I know you can

Come on I know you can