Smell the air, smell the feedback.
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Paint the road electro-pure.
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Touch your hair, push the seat back.
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I feel, I know, I'm sure.
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Stop at the place just off the square.
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We can take all the pictures and we'll take all the prose.
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Resend the frozen moments. No one has to know.
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And I can pull my arm out of socket - you can pull up the blinds.
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Sing while the ceiling fan turns in time.
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By the door, by the magazines, there's your coat, left for months.
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When it hit, when the weather changed,
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who would question you'd be back?
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If you want, even otherwise, I'll save the room just this way.
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Up until you stop by, some night.
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Every Fiber
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| Namelessnumberheadman |
