Once I flew in wonder.
I was a naked little lamb.
Then she said, “You’re getting warmer.”
Then I had fire on my hands.
But that was Virginia.
That was way back when.
It’s good to be innocent again.
I was hardened by the road.
Softened by the miles.
Ruined by the judgment.
Lifted by the trials.
Now I got my eyes on my heart
and a grin on my chin.
It’s good to be innocent again.
Pulled fast through the springs grass and faster and faster and faster yet
older and slower and soaking it in.
I, as a child, with crazy hair
and little hands
reaching into magic streams
did once understand
all I’m finding out
about the places that I’ve been.
It’s good to be innocent again.
Slowly, I got angry.
Afraid of the sun.
So I learned to cut the Aces.
I can show two cards as one.
But now the carnival’s left town.
A field returned to wind.
It’s good to be innocent again.
Pulled fast through the springs grass and faster and faster and faster yet
older and slower and soaking it in.