| You will never know
|
| How I let you slip through my hands
|
| Maybe it will come to blows
|
| There’s nothing to understand
|
| All the time you drift along
|
| Too high, too afraid to come down
|
| Shadow riding, you fall
|
| The elongated light makes you topple down
|
| Transistor radio
|
| A makeshift bookshelf
|
| A photograph of a girl buried in sand up to the neck
|
| Wearing sunglasses, smiling
|
| You whisked yourself away in a cab down Broadway
|
| The cab went 'round a corner
|
| Each step away from the curb
|
| Unmeasurable by a sextant
|
| The face of a constellation
|
| Connecting the dots with lines
|
| To make your memory
|
| All the time you drift along
|
| Too high, too afraid to come down
|
| Shadow riding, you fall
|
| The elongated light makes you topple down |