St. Louis

I met St. Louis on a plane
He was sitting there quiet
I was doing much the same
‘Till he touched my arm just once
And I started to cry

He said did you know the arch moves
I said no take me there, I need to be moved
It’s been a long long while since my face touched the sky

The same glasses that fill me
Eventually fall
And I take the pieces
And I plant them all
And I call it my garden
I call it my daughter
I call it life
And my life’s pretty good

I met St. Louis on a plane
He ordered me a whiskey
And I told him ‘bout the shame I felt
Every last time I broke a heart
I said did you know I got a man of many moons
He said no but I get it, and I’d take me with you
Every time the clock strikes twelve
And you’re feeling along

The same glasses that fill me
Eventually fall
And I take the pieces
And I plant them all
And I call it my garden
I call it my daughter
I call it my savior
I call it my prayer
I call it what matters
I call it my grace
I call it life
And my life’s pretty good