I can't think like that, because I've been falling since Spring,
And the last one stole more than this from me.
And it looks like this descension is here to stay.
This glass of wine is half empty.
So, I'll sit here in the dark, pretending,
That I don't feel your absence like a train that ran right through me.
And many chances to tell you have passed over me.
So I breathe a memory of you, last Fall. I won't exhale.
I wanted this song to have a piano for you,
Because that would make it perfect.
Every dream I've had tells me to be more practical or literal,
But I can't stop thinking of you, when you're my Konstantine.
I wish I'd write a song, like Andrew's.
But this pen's ink must be full of nothing but steel and iron,
Because no feeling comes out for you and only you.
You rhyme with his. You see, I'm falling,
And these days are passing by so slowly,
And I just can't get out of this.
If I broke, would you stitch me up? Because I'm broken,
But I don't see your thread.
I saw a needle, and felt it when it sunk into me.
It's May. Spring was like the fog that came last Fall.
It was here, I think, but I didn't feel it at all,
As it covered another candle that's fading out,
And the blue skies that seem so dark and far away.
They're always here, but I don't notice.
I wish you would speak to me, to let me know where you are,
And how long it took to get there.
If these feelings were letters, we'd be speaking with the most random alphabet.
This glass of wine is half empty, so bring the pallbearers in,
To pour me another glass.
If I was with you, I'd be with you all the time.
So we look on the other side of things, by tearing this pentacle in two,
And I only get half of the stars in the sky,
And half of the moon and half of the shade of your eyes.
I don't believe that when I look at the moon, you're seeing the same thing,
Because I'm convinced the blue of your eyes would send me a sign.
So where's my sign? I told them that all I wanted was something to hold me.
That could be the city, the trees, and the sense that you're near,
Or that you'll hold me, and whisper in my ear, "Only one more glass of Chardonnay."
And in your letters, the wines were days.
As I inhale another memory of you through this cigarette,
I'm aware of your absece, and concerned by my loss.
Something in D Minor - like Cannon.
The graduation song is so relevant, or something, to this.
The canons from the war of what I should and shouldn't have said,
Keep the beat and mark a bullseye on the tip of my tongue -
Where I felt you last.
There's a beeping, or a ticking, and I want it to be my phone,
Telling me that you've called.
If I visit, please, stay home.
Home was the shore, where the ocean meets the land.
Since your eyes are blue, you take the sea.
And I'll live with the dark depth of my eyes.
So this Fall, when the leaves die, I can dry my eyes,
In hopes you'll be one, as you're quietly blow away from me,
Into another city where the lights are on more often.
I'm still breathing that memory of you in the park,
It never got too dark, because our sky was one.
And the blue of your eyes made the sky a bit brighter,
So it wasn't black like mine.
But it's still Summer, and I believe that this glass is half empty.
