Empty Ray LaMontagne [Verse 1] She lifts her skirt up to her knees Walks through the garden rows with her bare feet, laughin' I never learned to count my blessings I choose instead to dwell in my disasters I walk on down the hill Through grass, grown tall and brown And still it's hard, somehow, to let go of my pain On past the busted back of that Old and rusted Cadillac That sinks into this fiel..
