From the recording Fee Comes Fourth
Lyrics
As I am skimming stones upon
The surface of the lake
I watch for perfect weather
And I search for perfect shape
Your hand fits mine, winter sunshine
Breaks upon the water
And then I throw an eight
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The wind begins to blow a breeze
Upon my perfect lake
And even little stones
Can make the arms of grown men ache
Small wave tips stone,
Sinks down alone
I am under the impression
I can only throw an eight,
An eight
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When I am skimming stones upon the surface of the lake
It often seems the stones and me are not quite the right shape
This life is mine, at least sometimes
And on the days it isn't
I can always throw an eight, an eight
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