|
There's never much to say between
|
the moments of our games and repartee
|
There's never much to read between
|
the lines of what we need
|
and what we'll take
|
There's never much to talk about
|
or say aloud, but say it anyway
|
Of holidays, and yesterdays,
|
and broken dreams that somehow slipped away
|
|
In books and magazines of how to be
|
and what to see while you are being
|
Before and after photographs teach
|
how to pass from reaching to believing
|
We live beyond our means
|
on other people's dreams
|
and that's succeeding
|
Between the lines of photographs
|
I've seen the past - it isn't pleasing
|
|
So strike another match
|
We'll have another cup of wine
|
and dance until the evening's dead
|
of too much song and time
|
There's never much to talk about
|
or read between the lines of what we
|
dream about when we're apart
|
and no one's looking on to say
|
"You're mine"
|
|
It was a good year then
|
It was a good year then - we all remember
|
the time you threw the looking glass
|
and seemed a fool - or very clever
|
Don't spoil it all; I can't recall
|
a time when you were struck
|
without an answer
|
We'll live a quiet, peaceful time
|
between the lines, and go together
|
|
I'm striking up the band
|
to play our last hurrah
|
We'll dance until we've
|
killed another evening off
|
Don't think of anyone but me
|
I'll have no lovers on the side
|
Tonight is all we've ever dreamed about
|
for once let's get it right
|
I'll go down flying in the end
|
Throw another bottle in between the lines
|
I'll go down like a ship of state
|
so let's be gracious now
|
between the lines
|
|
|
|
-----------------
|
Between The Lines
|
| Janis Ian |
