making music on sunday the sun comes through bent glass and burns you does it matter that we love one another does the truth matter when it doesn't touch you when i stood in the ocean the waves stopped the water got calm tomorrow could well be far or you could cross the street and there you are where it was cold and the water ran clean beneath the ice keeping the stones in the riverbed chilled at four degrees we were best friends time only passed inside our heads and even there the clockhands got stuck in the places we liked and if you weren't there there would be no truth so you are why this moment is true and why my thoughts are all only ever small fragments of anything large enough to have meaning when i speak it comes out the same and from so faraway
|