Boys In the Trees

(carly simon)I'm home again in my old narrow bed

Where I grew tall and my feet hung over the end

The low beam room with the window looking out

On the soft summer garden

Where the boys grew in the treesHere I grew guilty

And no one was at fault

Frightened by the power in every innocent thought

And the silent understanding passing down

>from daughter to daughter

Let the boys grow in the treesDo you go to them or do you let them come to you

Do you stand in back afraid that you'll intrude

Deny yourself and hope someone will see

And live like a flower

While the boys grew in the trees