You can't pick it

YOU CAN’T PICK IT (E A D G B E, capo 4)

You can’t pick it. Heavy hearts will miss the signals. Falling leaves blow right by.

Through the thicket crows are landing on the beaches. They’ve been waiting all night.

We made antlers with our hands and stomped our feet like deer. Through the window it got light.

Nobody else had come so we took off our shirts. But we would have anyway.

 

How can I make up my mind when I can hardly make my bed each day?

But it always gets done so I can really say: I made it. Yea—I made it!

You can’t pick it. Heavy hearts will miss the signals. Falling leaves blow right by.

Through the thicket crows are singing on the beaches. Let’s go.