William Elliott Whitmore
William Elliott Whitmore
William Elliott Whitmore
William Elliott Whitmore
William Elliott Whitmore
William Elliott Whitmore
William Elliott Whitmore
William Elliott Whitmore
William Elliott Whitmore
As the sun came up over that eastern field today
I could not help but think of you
The feeling shoots through me like a bullet
When I think of all the pain I put you through
Every day I can see that I'm a part of you
And you're a part of me
It all used to make so much more sense
And I'd have it all again if I could choose
I've lost some things over the years
But the memory I will not lose
As the sun goes down over that western field
I still can't help but think of you
Wherever you are I hope your wounds have healed
And you forgive me for the pain I put you through
Everyday it tortures me
I guess the apple fell too far from the tree