| Brief Bus Stop |
| I am walking out in the rain and I am listening to the low moan of the dial tone again and I am getting nowhere with you and I can't let it go and I can't get through... the old woman behind the pink curtains and the closed door on the first floor she's listening through the air shaft to see how long our swan song can last and both hands now use both hands oh, no don't close your eyes I am writing graffitti on your body I am drawing the story of how hard we tried I am watching your chest rise and fall like the tides of my life, and the rest of it all and your bones have been my bedframe and your flesh has been my pillow I am waiting for sleep to offer up the deep with both hands in eachother's shadows we grew less and less tall and eventually our theories couldn't explain it all and I'm recording our history now on the bedroom wall and eventually the landlord will come and paint over it all and I am walking out in the rain and I am listening to the low moan of the dial tone again and I am getting nowhere with you and I can't let it go and I can't get though So now use both hands please use both hands oh, no don't close your eyes I am writing graffitti on your body I am drawing the story of how hard we tried hard we tried how hard we tried |