| Im traveling in some vehicle
|
| Im sitting in some cafe
|
| A defector from the petty wars
|
| That shell shock love away
|
| Theres comfort in melancholy
|
| When theres no need to explain
|
| Its just as natural as the weather
|
| In this moody sky today
|
| In our possessive coupling
|
| So much could not be expressed
|
| So now Im returning to myself
|
| These things that you and I suppressed
|
| I see something of myself in everyone
|
| Just at this moment of the world
|
| As snow gathers like bolts of lace
|
| Waltzing on a ballroom girl
|
| You know it never has been easy
|
| Whether you do or you do not resign
|
| Whether you travel the breadth of extremities
|
| Or stick to some straighter line
|
| Now heres a man and a woman sitting on a rock
|
| Theyre either going to thaw out or freeze
|
| Listen…
|
| Strains of benny goodman
|
| Coming thru the snow and the pinewood trees
|
| Im porous with travel fever
|
| But you know Im so glad to be on my own
|
| Still somehow the slightest touch of a stranger
|
| Can set up trembling in my bones
|
| I know — no ones going to show me everything
|
| We all come and go unknown
|
| Each so deep and superficial
|
| Between the forceps and the stone
|
| Well I looked at the granite markers
|
| Those tribute to finality — to eternity
|
| And then I looked at myself here
|
| Chicken scratching for my immortality
|
| In the church they light the candles
|
| And the wax rolls down like tears
|
| Theres the hope and the hopelessness
|
| Ive witnessed thirty years
|
| Were only particles of change I know, I know
|
| Orbiting around the sun
|
| But how can I have that point of view
|
| When Im always bound and tied to someone
|
| White flags of winter chimneys
|
| Waving truce against the moon
|
| In the mirrors of a modern bank
|
| >from the window of a hotel room
|
| Im traveling in some vehicle
|
| Im sitting in some cafe
|
| A defector from the petty wars
|
| Until love sucks me back that way |