What I need, I'm not able to borrow
can't exchange, what can't be held in hand
if my memory serves me, I considered us woven together
but was the bond, as brittle as the leaves?
We'll all be waiting at the edge of the grass, come on
Or maybe talking on the hill near the road, come on
we'll kick some field goals between the trees
while there's time...
we filled the gaps with offerings of devotion
along with heat, the smell of burning dust
and assembling for whatever reason, we built our own meaning
in an age, where distance did contain
I'm feeling lifted by the sound of a phone, come on
eagerly waiting, with a space set aside, come on
we'll land some flips on the trampoline
while there's time...
Barely awake, sinking into the floor, hold on
melodies creeping, from the edge of the room, hold on
I'm thinking now I never told you enough
And now I'm here
20 something years removed
and sifting through
this evidence of us
lost within
the image of the rooms we're in
and chasing threads
connecting what we were to what we are
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