“Iowa (Traveling III)” by Dar Williams
How I long to fall just a little bit, to dance out of the lines and stray from the light
But I fear that to fall in love with you is to fall from a great and gruesome height
So I asked a friend about it, on a bad day, her husband had just left her
She sat down on the chair he left behind, she said
“what is love, where did it get me? whoever thought of love is no friend of mine.”