Well, I still have a little doubt if i want to make the sounds of my feet on your porch
But i did, so will you let me in? now i'm sitting in your kitchen
And I'm begging for scraps of your intellect but I know full well
That I can't control any advice that I might get
The summer's green and hazy and I can't slow down to its pace
And you don't seem to be relating to all my guilt from feeling lazy
But when it's 4am and your window's pink and blue I will drop my thoughts
Because I know your melody will soon ring through
Reread those pages that you wrote and you'll find out what they mean to you
Our sketchbooks spoke a language of pictures that just sang the truth
And i've found comfort in the words of other people
Now i can go to bed and say "amen"
But don't get lost in the shadow of a steeple because then you're doing someone else's praying