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In the yard, behind the church
Where butterflies and blackbirds search
For a safe place to rest the night away
We will go down to the brook
And sit upon the overlook
Then forget about the troubles of the day
We will walk among the graves of
Men long dead with Presidents' names and
Listen to the water flow softly by
I will kiss you on the lips now
And as the sky grows dark we'll strip down
And let the water wash away all lies
In the yard, behind the church
Where butterflies and blackbirds perch
On gravestones as the garden's growing dim
We will lay down on the ground
And put our cheeks against the dirt down
Where it no longer matters where you've been
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