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