If I Could Make It Work Songtext
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I sit on a piano stool, and I make up songs for these men
Who come in with dust on their faces and mud on their boots
From these places that I'll never go.
I sleep in a rented bed, with a woman who gives me
What little I get of the love that we'd like to imagine
Is left of the love that we never did know.
I slip out and scribble a note that reads like a million bucks.
It's a four cent nickel for my dime store thief
But it sure reads good
Who come in with dust on their faces and mud on their boots
From these places that I'll never go.
I sleep in a rented bed, with a woman who gives me
What little I get of the love that we'd like to imagine
Is left of the love that we never did know.
I slip out and scribble a note that reads like a million bucks.
It's a four cent nickel for my dime store thief
But it sure reads good
CHORUS:
And If I could make it work in life
(Make it work in life)
Like it works on paper.
(Works on paper)
If the love that I describe
(Love that I describe)
Could be anything but words
Then I would wipe my eyes,
I'd dry this ink,
I'd trade my pen in on a pair of wings.
And I would
(I would)
I would fly
(I would fly)
If I could only make it work in life
And at the end of every night, I add up the tips
That account for what might not come down to a thing
That amounts to a life, and the sum of it all I'm afraid is less than what I know
I need to slip beneath the surface of my forgeries
Where I buried my hopes with sometimes my dreams
Still stir me and steal me away.
And I can still hear Dineh Bikeyah call
Just like when we were kids.
And I could tell you all about it in a song.
But Lord, I wish that
CHORUS
If I could only make it work in life.
And If I could make it work in life
(Make it work in life)
Like it works on paper.
(Works on paper)
If the love that I describe
(Love that I describe)
Could be anything but words
Then I would wipe my eyes,
I'd dry this ink,
I'd trade my pen in on a pair of wings.
And I would
(I would)
I would fly
(I would fly)
If I could only make it work in life
And at the end of every night, I add up the tips
That account for what might not come down to a thing
That amounts to a life, and the sum of it all I'm afraid is less than what I know
I need to slip beneath the surface of my forgeries
Where I buried my hopes with sometimes my dreams
Still stir me and steal me away.
And I can still hear Dineh Bikeyah call
Just like when we were kids.
And I could tell you all about it in a song.
But Lord, I wish that
CHORUS
If I could only make it work in life.
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