orson tells the story so well 
and despite the lack of snow in texas 
i see myself 
sledding 

and every time i watch it again 
i see parts of life 
that i've always been 
dreading 

the sweetest moments 
fading like snapshots 
in old trunks 
of faces no one living quite remembers 
but crushed between the pages 
of a well read book of poetry... 
a rosebud 

some believe that time is no friend 
while others insist that they've learned 
how to bend it 
their way 

well, i see a mansion 
with hallways and big rooms 
with footsteps 
and mem'ries 
but only one that really lingers 
and safe within the pages 
of my favorite book of poetry... 
a rosebud 

maybe i lost my sled later than kane did 
but it's gone, all right 
just the same... 

so i do what i do every day 
and i do what i do 
'cause i've found a way 
to do it 

oh, but when night falls 
and clocks stop and dreams come 
i'm back there 
and sometimes when i least expect it 
his arms hold me 
and over all the pages 
of all my books of poetry... 
rosebud 

Words & Music by Harriet Schock