I remember weekend trips to Juan de Fuca bay, I didn't really want to go
But the calmness and the freedom of the strait, why I left it I don't know?
But there are hours made for waiting and I am a slave emancapating
A nice, quiet cabin in the woods would turn the maybees into coulds
And surely then I would feel alright, and I could go on with my life
I will buy a pick up, pack it up and watch the sun go down
Behind the mountains and hills green
And listen to the river and the roar, a northern summer is my dream
And there are hours made for waiting and I am a slave emancipating
A nice, quiet cabin in the woods would turn the maybees into coulds
And surely then I would feel alright, and I could go on with my life