Our Beloved Tenderland
In a beloved tenderland
my beloved holds my hand,
in gentle dew of the mulberries,
we watch the moon paint the Chattahoochee
in parakeet dreams of weeping cherry trees.
As cockatiels turn the sky teal,
we wonder if this could even be real.
Sweet clovers kiss the honeysuckle stream,
lost in a honey-love dream
our jacked-up Ford Super Duty
lights up the night with 'Lightning' streaks
so we can see clearly to fall asleep.
I lean my head against a willow,
please, darling, be my pillow.
As the stars twinkle raspberry red
we snuggle into our Ford love nest.
As the wind blows the smell of sliced tangerines,
we crush the peels out of our dreams
and find a way to rest in peace.
In my Southland's beloved arms,
my beloved holds my heart.
We've buried a tombstone beneath our tree,
we've run away like gypsies
and found a place to believe
with the weeping cherry trees
we weep away the broken hopes
that sneak their way into our home.
Letting go of what we don't need,
we give it to God what tomorrow will be.
Oh, baby, can't you see
the fireflies dancing in the moonbeam?
So come, baby, dance with me.
The moths all die searching for warmth,
the light breaks their little hearts,
but tomorrow won't break us into smithereens,
forever can never break our dreams.
So wrap your arms around me,
this is the life we want to lead,
to dance forever in a dream.
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