three square miles at a time
and it's hard to keep tracing
if you never stay on the lines
well her hands are wanderers
examining sunlight
and recording the shadows
surrounding bleached paper white
these cliffs are her favorites
supporting weathered strong lines
because jumping is sacred
she may take a short flight
but it's a sunburn day
a light like she likes it sort of day
it's a room with a view of fire trees in november
and cool grey-green rock that whispers her name
yeah it's a sunburn day
a light like she likes it sort of day
she's fallen in love with falling away
but the shadows are perfect, they're perfect today
mile high denver receding
sixty five miles every hour
the trouble with places we're leaving
is that we always remember they're still there
new moon nights make her crazy
nothing but white points to draw
she's standing next morning among black sheets
and useless bits of charcoal
well this canyon's her favorite
she's got a surefooted grip on the edge
because jumping is sacred
you can't go clumsily tumbling in the end
and it's a sunburn day
it's a light like she likes it sort of day
it's a room with a sunrise that brings her awake
to sketch another colorado day
and it's a sunburn day
it's a light like she likes it sort of day
she's fallen in love with falling away
but the shadows are perfect, they're perfect today
how can we thank you for your art?
on this sunburn day
on this light like you like it sort of day
it's a room with a view of fire trees in november
and cool grey-green rock that whispers your name
it's a sunburn day
it's a light like you like it sort of day
you've fallen in love with falling away
but the shadows are perfect, they're perfect today
mile high denver receding
sixty-five miles every hour
the trouble with places we're leaving
is that you always
yeah you always remember they're still there
portrait of a colorado suicide
BacK
copyright 2003 daniel s. zimmerman