| Can you tell
|
| Is that dog tied?
|
| Are your hands that cold now
|
| Or is it mine?
|
| Time ago, it was on Meeting Street
|
| You pulled me close to you;
|
| Now you ask «which way row here?»
|
| Like it was mine to choose
|
| Cover me in the dining bell
|
| Where the pool is standing still
|
| You told me once, I learned it well —
|
| There is nothing here for me
|
| Nothing here for me
|
| It frightens me
|
| It could be so long ago
|
| We first kicked rocks from here
|
| Into the river below;
|
| I guess I thought that nothing ought to move
|
| Beneath my feet
|
| I guess I thought that all I gave to you
|
| Was somehow mine to keep
|
| Lower me in the diving bell
|
| And let me breathe what will remain
|
| And I’ll return your handsome shells
|
| Though there is nothing here for me
|
| Nothing here for me
|
| The Aaron’s place is empty and falling down
|
| I remember the night the roof caught fire
|
| And you could see it from town;
|
| We say goodbye on Meeting Street
|
| Walking out together
|
| Knowing nothing could be any different
|
| But maybe nothing could be better
|
| Raise me in the diving bell
|
| And drag it up the muddy hill
|
| Let it ring and finally tell —
|
| There is nothing here for me
|
| Nothing here for me |