Little girl run where you aren’t alive So long believing your face will be long under me But New York is where you’re not quite done Waiting for postcards and being enough Sit in the windows and waiting to be Looking for letters appear on a screen New York is for postcards, they’re distant and not quite enough A moment of someone that never could quite fill you up And you live for the minutes of feeling in love You live for the past that you’ve known You wander in the marketplace, waiting and Live for the minutes of feeling in love An addict that crawls in the park To wander in the atmosphere and stare in the dark To always spend your life so wistful, straining towards the mast To lock your eyes in silhouettes of meaning in the past I’d like to love to jettison the giants and the statues They’re so atrocious-beautiful until you can’t quite move And I spent two years being never quite there With my head in the sand and my notes flying fair Always restricting my hands in the air

When the moment’s arrived Lay your head on her sleeve Always when you’re near her you’ll hear the same thoughts Of a full distance voice saying not to go back, ever onwards through circles that flow And to always be ready to go In the ringing soft silence alone Hearing songs that you already know are too old to be yours You want to be thrown Like the window you’ll be The tears in your hair are the tunes of your eyes, that drip melodies into your fears And she’ll lick them away from your ears With her lips that are freckled in white And your sheets that are damp with your sweat through the thick of the night And assimilate time To the notes that you play She sings like the whimpering minstrels that bloom, for a day before ceding their trade Losing all of the secrets they made Watching all of the blood from the cradle Run quiet and float on away Past the wax that drips off of the table and onto your face You can see that she’ll age And you want to believe But you know in your heart that one day you will leave her to strain into space on her own While you drink in your bed all alone Crying words to the past that you’ve known And she drifts into clouds, going home, to the dreams where she stays And you wish you could stay And you wish you could go And you will every day that your eyelids could know, what her lips might have sad to your face On the dock where she clings to her age Casting soundwaves across empty space And you wish that you wanted to go And you wish that you wanted to stay where she’s sweeter than songs In the heat of her arms And you don’t have to doubt You know that she loves you and you lie without doubt, at the bottom of hills that you ring Even if you might cry when you sing And might not understand anything In the clouds of the days that won’t linger much more in your head When the moment’s arrived Lay your head on her sleeve The world feels alive til you see you can’t leave what she did to your love long ago You’ll be waiting forever to know Like the fossils that burn in the snow If this ends in the summery glow of the sand in the trees And assimilate time To the notes that you play The words that you say will sound wise in the day, but she’ll know what you missed in the dawn Drinking butane and carrying on Where the band rolls their eyes and they’re gone Back to memory beaches they fondle like words of a poem And I’ll have somebody follow you home Find the address of ceilings you don’t Stare so carelessly at in the night as you hone your mistakes So don’t go to her now Because you’ll always see The world isn’t much once it’s sized perfectly, to the image in back of your head You’ll be missing her now til you’re dead Craving shoulders that stick in your chest And the cheap ringing sound of the bed And the sleepy weak smile when you’re fed Three tomatoes and one silhouette And the candles that burn blue and red through the day where you sleep She’ll be waiting for you longer than you know how in a thousand small candles that wait Where they’re longing to take you away In a thousand small games that they play They sparkle now starting to say what they’ll do to your soul

There's an order full of order where I stand And some poet's got each verse at his command And you know I don't want you to understand why I can't hear your voice You know I don't want you to understand all this noise And our parents never learned to steal the ball We never learn to soften any fall And I loved you more than anyone at all in this hall where I look We're always all alone here after all in some long heavy book And I don't know where the sunshine is at all in these hands that I shook It must be somewhere in some incandescent fall, all the winter bits of summer that we took