I saw a sparrow peck a bone
I heard the beak against a stone
I saw a swallow swallowing flies
Above a lake in the Poconos
There was a black bear on a hillside
There was a bee sting and a blushing bride
I saw four swallows all swooping low
Under a bridge above the countryside
I wanted the Four Corners
I wanted the south of France
I wanted the family and I wanted the dance
I was Guildenstern to your Rosencrantz
I wanted Los Angeles, I wanted Montana
I wanted the mountains, I wanted the shore
I wanted mountains carved into my arms
I never meant you any harm
I saw the rose and the mother hips
I tasted something bitter on your lips
I saw your hair burn bright with flames
You told me you're tired of the games
The car was stuck sunk in the ditch
Swung and struck out on the final pitch
The year was lost, I was the burnt book
All the poems you wrote, the dirty looks
I wanted the Four Corners
I wanted the south of France
I wanted the family and I wanted the dance
I was Guildenstern to your Rosencrantz
I wanted Los Angeles I wanted Montana
I wanted the mountains I wanted the shore
I wanted mountains carved into my arms
I never meant you any harm
I saw your hair burn full of fire
I heard you telling me that you were tired
Each night I’m haunted by the freckled skin
I saw you carving lines into your thigh
I saw the blood stain on the sheets
I'm haunted by the way you moved your feet
Across my floor when you would dance away
You liked to leave marks with your teeth
Is that all there is?
Is that all there is to a fire?