| Lady be good was a bomber | 
| U.S. Air force 1943 | 
| She crashed into the dunes of the Libyan desert | 
| And wasn’t seen 'till 58 | 
| The crew had crawled to the north, starved and baked | 
| While a cold oasis lay behind them a few miles the other way | 
| Listen to the sand | 
| Listen to the ground | 
| There’s always gonna be another way out | 
| I am your shade in the morning | 
| You are my shadow at dusk | 
| And the music our foot prints ride is permanent | 
| More permanent than sound | 
| Listen to the sand | 
| Listen to the ground | 
| There’s always gonna be another way out | 
| I am your shade in the morning | 
| You are my shadow at dusk | 
| And the music our foot prints ride is permanent | 
| More permanent than sound | 
| Deborah Knapp | 
| She and I were in 8th grade together | 
| We were learning how to flirt | 
| And I remember how her friends all told me | 
| «Ask her out and she’ll fly over the moon.» | 
| But I didn’t, and she shot herself that June | 
| This is not where the song was going | 
| This is not what I meant to write | 
| But all at once, the worm is hatched | 
| The apple turns and the orchard dies | 
| And your heart is full of something | 
| Thick and uninvited | 
| The fever of another heart hatching deep inside of it | 
| Listen to the sand | 
| Listen to the ground | 
| There’s always gonna be another way out | 
| I am your shade in the morning | 
| You are my shadow at dusk | 
| And the music our foot prints ride is permanent | 
| More permanent than sound | 
| Listen to the sand | 
| Listen to the ground | 
| There’s always gonna be another way out | 
| I am your shade in the morning | 
| You are my shadow at dusk | 
| And the music our foot prints ride is permanent | 
| More permanent than sound | 
| Listen to the sand | 
| Listen to the ground | 
| There’s always gonna be another way out | 
| I am your shade in the morning | 
| You are my shadow at dusk | 
| And the music our foot prints ride is permanent | 
| More permanent than sound | 
| Let the violins forgive their bows | 
| And the marching drums forgive their drummer | 
| And let the song forgive the singer | 
| Forgive me | 
| And let love forgive the lovers | 
| No need to be good now |