Fire On the Vine

You were hiding in the backseat of my Lincoln Underneath a blanket with your head against the door And I was already halfway through Ohio When I heard your soft voice singing to a song on the radio I crept out in the darkness of the morning Past our

I will be the watchman on your wall You fill my cup and I fill yours You fill my cup and I fill yours You sang over me, with a tambourine in your hand About the rider, the horse, and the land You sang over me, with a tambourine in your hand About the