St. Louis

I met St. Louis on a plane

He was sitting there quiet

I was doing much the same

‘Till he touched my arm just once

And I started to cry

He said did you know the arch moves

I said no take me there, I need to be moved

It’s been a long long while since my face touched the sky

The same glasses that fill me

Eventually fall

And I take the pieces

And I plant them all

And I call it my garden

I call it my daughter

I call it life

And my life’s pretty good

I met St. Louis on a plane

He ordered me a whiskey

And I told him ‘bout the shame I felt

Every last time I broke a heart

I said did you know I got a man of many moons

He said no but I get it, and I’d take me with you

Every time the clock strikes twelve

And you’re feeling along

The same glasses that fill me

Eventually fall

And I take the pieces

And I plant them all

And I call it my garden

I call it my daughter

I call it my savior

I call it my prayer

I call it what matters

I call it my grace

I call it life

And my life’s pretty good