I'm the singer, you're the poet
I was wrong to leave you, and I know it
Well, that letter I wrote in July
Now I'm thinking it all was a lie
Ozan Point, Alleghenies, Montana sunsets
Yankton skies, crumbled walls and Mill Creek inlets
We were young and far too wild to tame
And Indiana was running through my veins
Under skies, roofs, and tents, we were together
You went flying out in May to seek your pleasure
Your voice crashed hard on the wires from here to yonder
And I was dreaming in tropic storms of thunder
Well, our love failed the test of space and time
Beijing mocked all my faith in love and wine
My own Panamanian disaster
Joined the ranks of preacher, priest and pastor
Don't you write, don't you call, just mind your own business
I can be somebody else's international princess
Keep your back pocket empty just for me
And I can sing for you if you have the need
Well I'm still the singer and you're the poet
I was wrong to leave you and I know it
Well that letter I wrote in July
But we can meet in the middle of an ocean, in the sky