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Stephen Fretwell
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The Ground Beneath Your Feet
Now that since I've found your face
In the most peculiar place
I don't feel I've anything to prove
To anyone else but you
And I think of her
And she thinks of him
And there's no escaping
This mess that we're in
But its like she's holding court
Down each street that we walk
And as she's drawing all that heat
I feel like the ground beneath her feet
Glance past a skyline of factories
Think of that life that was over to you
Time, time well there's a funny thing
Written in black on the back of your hand
I still think of her
Do you think of him
And those pills and potions
Work the same time again
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And you're counting all the numbers
In your waterproof purse
And it's not just a chance I have to stay and crawl along and past
The ground beneath your feet
Do you think of her
'Cause I think of him
And there's no escaping
This mess that we're in
And its like you're holding court
Down each street that we walk
And as you're drawing all that heat
I can't surmise or say
I wonder what price it is I'll pay
To sweep and move the sand
From the ground beneath your feet
Now that I've found your face
In the most peculiar place
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