\"It's so beautiful here,\" she says, \"This moment now and moment, now.\" And I never thought I would find her Flannel and satin, my four walls transformed. But she's looking at me, straight to center, No room at all for any other thought.
And I I don't want this, oh, I swear I don't want this. There's a reason not to want this but forgot.
In the terminal she sleeps on my shoulder, Hair falling forward, mouth all askew. Fluorescent announcements beat their wings overhead: \"Passengers missing, we're looking you.\" And she dreams through the noise, her weight against me, Face into the corduroy grooves.
Maybe it means nothing, maybe it means nothing, Maybe it means nothing, but I'm afraid to move.
And words: they're everything and nothing. I want to search for her in the offhand remarks. Who are you, coffee, no sugar? Who are echoing street signs? Who are you, the stranger in the shell of a lover, Dark curtains drawn by the passage of time?
Oh, words, like how sweet the sound. \"Well anyway,\" she says, \"I'll see you around...\"