Lyrics

There's a continent on my wall I have never seen before
The searching blue peels back an ever-changing shore
But I don't have a boat to take us there
So I'll put it in my pocket with your poetry
And all my pretty prayers

The geese are flying overhead, faithful, straight, and true
In that the joyful noise there is a song I wish I knew
But I don't have wings to catch that flight
Just my pocket full of poetry and these prayers
To get us through the night

'Cause I'll never ride a mare on the Patagonia Trail
To the white sands of the Seychelles I'll not likely set my sail
But hold my hand and in our dreams I know
We will get there

I'm walking through the woods I hear the distant, rumbling sound
Of the California Zephyr, San Francisco bound
But I don' have the fare for that railway line
Just my pocket full of poetry, pretty prayers
And this church of oak and pine

And I'll never ride a mare on the Patagonia Trail
To the white sands of the Seychelles I'll not likely set my sail
But hold my hand and in our dreams I know
We will get there