Lyrics

I’M ON THE VERGE (I’M FALLING SNOW)

Part your lips, find your tongue, slept through the call for the last station
so turn the bend, and come again, those yellow window shows,
see them safe in kitchen coves, then there’s you:
your face in the green glass glow, I wish you could know
how much younger, you do seem, as you fall into 

sleep yourself down in the years
when everyone knew of your name, yet they ask your age
the cottonwood's a sticky tree, whose leather scented seeds
are flying down the street, proceeding
their once and their future king-- rides forth on two wheels
looking for the deal, maybe a steal, or at least to take part

sleep on the train if you can
and come awake, heaving that weight as the high note sings
I'm on the verge, I'm falling snow, maybe I'm going home
but how can you be sure of 
anything?
not even the flies you've trapped and held in your heart
so count the stars, before they fall even further (and further) apart

(part) your lips, find your tongue
Ya missed your stop, slept through the call for the last station
so turn the bend, and come again, those yellow window shows,
see them safe in kitchen coves, then there’s you:
your face in the green glass glow, I wish you could know
how much younger, you do seem, as you fall even deeper asleep…

AKA “Falling Grace” by Steve Swallow 
Lyrics by Edda Glass