© by Brett Dennen

Momma got to worrying
Because her boy left home in a hurry again
Her photographs are fading,
She keeps a box in the closet full of negatives

Well, I left a note on the floor in my room
I've always been stubborn and late to bloom
I had to lay down my load, my burdens are my own
It's a coming of age when you feel it you know

When you feel it you know
When you feel it you know
And I know, I know

I was longing on a short summer night
When I had the urge to leave
I went out to find my muse
With an eighth in my pocket and a craving for some cajun blues

What you said

I was following my fall leaves
When I saw her aboard the river queen
I was courting my
Frail lady all the way to New Orleans

But I was swoon by a luminous tomb
So I climbed the roof and gave that woman my croon
I had to tell her all I know, my business is my own
It's a coming of age when you feel it you know

When you feel it you know
When you feel it you know
And I know, I know

When you feel
When you feel it you know

When you feel
When you feel it you know

When you feel
When you feel it you know

When you feel
When you feel it

Well, mamma got to worrying
She said "Now boy, I stay up late wondering where you been!
Oh, soon your gonna have to give in
No you can't live forever the way that you been."

Oh, mamma I'm not trying to do not wrong
I had to learn this is the way I get along
It's a life that I chose, my reasons are my own
It's a coming of age when you feel it you know

When you feel it you know
When you feel it you know
When you feel it you know
When you feel it you know
When you feel it you know
When you feel it you know
I know, I know
When you feel it you know
When you feel it you know
When you feel it you know

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