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I have a picture, out of focus A group of my friends when I was twelve It was taken in my back yard The swimming pool behind us Late nights sitting In a room under the stars Riding through the back streets The moon follows the car Well it haunts me just a little How much is just plain gone Some are dead and I’m relying On getting lost in that feeling. And the quarry is full of water It filled up so fast I remember standing near it How deep and empty it could be I made a lemon cake For no good reason I threw in the rest of me Maybe I never tell them It will go to the grave with me What is sacred And it is Sunday, the sun is rising Imagining what it will be like Imagine what will they say When you hear it What will you tell them Tell them about you and me Maybe I will never tell them Maybe it will go with me to my grave I have a picture, out of focus A group of my friends when I was twelve It was taken in my back yard The swimming pool behind us Late nights sitting In a room under the stars Riding through the back streets The moon follows the car Well it haunts me a little How much is just plain gone Some are dead and I’m relying On getting lost in that feeling. And the quarry is full of water It filled up so fast I remember standing near it How deep and empty it could be I made a lemon cake For no good reason I threw in the rest of me Maybe I never tell them It will go to the grave with me What is sacred And it is Sunday, the sun is rising, Imagining what it will be like Imagine what will they say When you hear it What will you tell them Tell them about you and me Maybe I will never tell them Maybe it will go with me to my grave