| In all this teariness
|
| I’m weak to your response
|
| But I can’t speak of things
|
| You take the Hudson line
|
| Up to Quaker Ridge
|
| And I’ve just realized
|
| No, I ain’t dreamin' this
|
| I’m reaching for your heart
|
| Headlines and deadlines
|
| Whisper low, ignore the light
|
| Sometimes
|
| We’ll deny
|
| Closing slowly, reach devine
|
| Let me go, these walls I wish I could kick or knock
|
| And now that I’m not
|
| It’s all coming apart
|
| I don’t think I’ll resist
|
| And I don’t think I can quit
|
| Red vines and dead nights
|
| Whisper low, ignore the light
|
| Sometimes, not all the time
|
| Closing slowly, reach devine
|
| Let me go
|
| These walls I wish I could kick or knock
|
| And now that I’m not
|
| It’s all coming apart
|
| Come, dear, enjoy the light
|
| Blue and dying 'til the end, and I’m left clutching stems
|
| Uptown, marquee spells fright
|
| But I can’t see my friends, and I’m left clutching stems
|
| You’re found, when a poem shines bright
|
| When all that’s left is the flames, and I’m left clutching stems |