I say \"Dirt won't hold a cloud Just 'cause I paint it blue I love you Hun I don't want dirt for me and you\" Where does the blue ground stay Once all
You noticed and brought My eardrum so close to you \"Sweetie, let's sit down get some ground Just talk, lie around Set your hands on carpet Move 'em
serving the sign that says \"Please return books where they belong\" But I think somewhere before all of the choirs Revised each so-called resolute right Ten thousand times A blue
eleven and I'm at your door Through the miles between Your gaze has grown older But I still see that same frame I stole when I was sixteen In this foreign
Dress me in tight clothes So next to you I will be of adequate pose Make my lips glow by the pencil As if they shined like yours How boys watch their
Inevitability is blowing on my neck The titles of the book-shelved walls Rearrange to spell out what is already known Your door keeps creeping closer
The less you're oblivious The sadder you become Like having all of the ink In the world But no paper to create on Eden is back and we sit Nude and numb
There is a girl whose mind is Two hundred miles from here Time spent in the daylight Is spent drawing dark ovals I park next to the same makes of her
just grown dizzy And made their way To a pillow garden on a deaf floor Lying under plastic Christmas trees Staring up the staircase of electric fairies But magic is down, deep in blue
There is a bus driving through a park With eight gray-haired passengers And an awe-burned driver girl Thinking of night and the bar Now age is quite