Everyone needs a place to think
In the summer, late into the evening
Dusk touching the eaves
On the old wooden furniture
In the deep winter, dragging my chair
Into the dining room
Feet up in front of the dancing fire
Everyone needs a place to think
In the summer, late into the evening
Dusk touching the eaves
On the old wooden furniture
In the deep winter, dragging my chair
Into the dining room
Feet up in front of the dancing fire