The Book - Lyrics by Sheryl Crow


Lyrics
I read your book

And I find it strange

That I know that girl and I know her world
A little too well

And I didn't know

By giving my hand

That I would be written down, sliced around,

Passed down

Among strangers hands


Three days in Rome

Where do we go
I'll always remember

Three days in Rome


Never again

Would I see your face

You carry a pen and a paper
and no time and words you waste

You're a voyeur

The worst kind of thief

To take what happened

To write down everything that went on

Between you and me


Three days in Rome

And I stand alone
I'll always remember

Three days in Rome
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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace