I am from ancient clay pots
From early Sunday mornings and rolling chairs
I am from the dusty dry Adobe trails
I am from soft lambs ear and spikycrawling catus
I am from Christmas dinners and Mexican food
From sandwiches on a griddle and green and blue flowers in bed
I'm from mermaids and soft pillows
From shots and raspberry lollipops
Warm laughs and strong hugs
I am from balloons in the sky
I 'm from golden rules and silver stars drowning in blue
And butterflies that exist only in my dreams
I'm from lonely weekends
I'm from Texas and ancient blood, cold wars, and skirts of green
From slackers turned college grad, hard working days and nights
Boxes sealed tight but just waiting to break hurried deep the ground
I live in painted walls and blue skies splattered with fading red
I can't go home again because it's not mine anymore
