Stones Behind ©2007 Richard March and Tyler Ragle She had a way of painting in the minor key Oh, how the colors would run She had a way of winning hollow victories Races distant and done Then the dark rain fell Washing all the silver away Leaving shades of black and grey Oh, what a price to pay He had a trick stuck somewhere up his shiny sleeve Never could find the thread Playing cards pretending he’s rolling high It was all is his head Washed up on the beach just like a memory Water carving the sand He played her sweeter than a symphony Took what he could demand In the long way down Stretching toward the end of the day Tighter your grip they say Sooner it slips away It’s a homemade prophecy, baby Heavy chains coming down Good intentions knocking you off your feet Making it easy to drown Heartstrings cry Slipping and stretching inside After all you’ll find there’s still some peace of mind Leaving the stones behind