Nate Donnis

Lyrics

They make you breakfast here and turn your eyes from the world.
By the comfort of their old fashioned ways and the patience of slow careful pace.
The clock is stopped and no one cares.

All the puzzles and the tea, books of poetry on the shelf.
And there's a postcard from 1922.
The hostess greets you she brings you to your room,
In an old familiar way

And what seems important, it just falls off your shoulder and takes you over to the chair by the fire

Edgar Allan Poe, pie a la mode, the day is older now.
She is sleeping softly in the light.
The tiny words are growing heavy on my eyes.
And tomorrows just another day.

And what seems important, it just falls off your shoulder and takes you over to the bed by her side.

And what seems important, it just falls off your shoulder and takes you over to the old wooden porch

Then take a walk by the trinket shops and feel my feet rising up then drop. Like a summer rain back to the river, a state of mind like a floating feather. Then get my fill at the cider mill and come back in to the old hotel, like a summer rain back to the river, a state of mind like a floating feather. It's alright.

They make your breakfast here.