Raised in the heart of eastern Oregon,
she sat on a log and marveled at the waterfall.
Brought up with roots right under her bare feet
by a father who loved her
mom, mom who loved security.
And she walked a long, long, long, long long long ways from home.
Met her at the local university,
I studied poetry -
she wrote my poems for me.
Stood on my seat,
she on the stage like an oak in an open field
yawning for Broadway, Broadway, Broadway.
Moved to be among the stars
looked up and wondered just where they are.
Deciduous soul,
am I just a leaf you're letting go?
Building a house but I'm building it slow -
building from treated wood,
maybe from too many stones.
Sixteen-million eyes like hands,
like weapons/natural
weapons of the son of man,
son of man,
son of man.
You can always come back home,
rest your head where it belongs.
Deciduous soul,
am I just a leaf you're letting go?
Deciduous soul,
am I just a leaf you're letting go?
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Lyrics submitted by Silje Christoffersen.