A gardener told me some plants move. But I could not believe it. Till me and Hannah Hunt. Saw crawling vines and weeping willows. As we made our way from Providence to Phoenix. A man of faith said. Hidden eyes could see what I was thinking. I just smiled and told him. That was only true of Hannah. And we glided on through Waverley and Lincoln. Our days were long our nights no longer. Count the seconds watching hours. Though we live on the US dollar. You and me we got our own sense of time. In Santa Barbara Hannah cried. And missed those freezing beaches. And I walked into town. To buy some kindling for the fire. Hannah tore the New York Times up into pieces. If I can't trust you then damn it Hannah. There's no future there's no answer. Though we live on the US dollar. You and me we got our own sense of time