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Wrong Turns
©2003 Gibbens/Weston

It’s a dark and rocky road
that they call experience
And nothing you can do
will make any of it make sense
And nothing anyone else can do either.
Once upon a time a lame man
picked up his bed and walked,
Once upon a time a bush burned,
a cock crowed and an ass talked,
And every now and then you’ll find
you didn’t even notice where the road forked
But if you’d seen the choice you might have taken neither.

At every evening crossroads
two roads meet and two roads part,
And ever leaving trainload
takes a piece of my heart
That the moonlit goose brings back again.
So you’d like to be my friend
and I’d love to be your lover,
So you tell me to get lost
but I’ll come back as another
Cause every time we get our lines crossed
and I think it’s over
Careless love comes fooling along again.

It’s a sweet and blind young thing
that’s born in a blinding light,
And a crooked blind old world
that catches it in spite
And puts it on the road to endless night.
So bring a candle and a bell
and a big black book.
The candle’s for to see,
the bell’s for company,
And the big black book
makes a better pillow than a rock.
Then you take the pass and I’ll take the height
And I’ll meet you when the wrong turns right.

Yes, you take your time and I’ll take that flight
And I’ll meet you when the wrong turns right.


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