Forty Times

Many is the time
That I have run around my mind
And run into a blind alley
Yes I've rode a horse of red
Down through the valleys of my head
I did not get out of the saddle
I clung to a bird of green
And rested in the in-between
I saw the mountain and how to get there

Baby, now
I wanna get from behind this cloud
I'm tired of pushing

Shady valleys in the summertime
A warm fireplace in the fall
That's where I'm going
And I want you to be by my side, that's all
That's all

Many is the place
That I have run a ragged race
And I have lost, but I won also
And more and more I see
The sparkling tinsel on the tree
Is less attractive than the pine needles
And everybody in this whole wide world is free
If they would only let themselves be
As I wish I could
And I will someday

Baby, now
I wanna get from behind this cloud
I'm tired of pushing
I'm tired of pushing
I want some kind of cushion
Push-push-push-pushing
I want some kind of cushion
...