and who is this man standing at my door?
|
is he lying or is he true?
|
is this how I see you?
|
like a rolling pebble on the deepest ocean floor
|
life has rubbed me smooth.
|
but you cup me in your hands
|
and you roll me in your pocket.
|
how many men, unhappy, crammed inside their skin,
|
wordless to explain, stand at someone's door?
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Am I too old for this?
|
is there kindness in his face?
|
a good man or a weak man?
|
there are horses in the room pulling me through fences
|
I throw the window open
|
and the light hits the pavement.
|
come in, come in, whoever you are.
|
I will know you, if only from afar.
|
|
once I saw a dry dock
|
and the rustling hulks of ships and trawlers
|
with a wind that could cut steel
|
it was so cold.
|
|
and I don't have to think that hard
|
and it all comes flooding back.
|
there is so much that neither of us will ever know.
|
come in, come in, whoever you are.
|
I will know you, if only from afar.
|
|
-----------------
|
Horses In The Room
|
| Everything But The Girl |
