And I thought the I could be found
Just like baking cookies
Just like walking down the block
Just like combing my hair

I should show you
A picture that I took
Of me looking under the bed
I was a child then
Am a child now

One day a heart sweet came
It was a Sunday
It promised just as the winds 
promised the birds
I stood there
I stand still
Writing here
Writing there

And I thought the I could be found