Few discoveries rival the moment of recognition of matched imperfection in another. The love that should shave us.
To reflect as much as can be reflected. So much reliable uncertainty, such familiar disappointment. So much joy. As if anything here should be shocking anymore.
Much this, and so much that.
Self, else, etc.
That's it, just us.
Somethin's beatin' on the wall, on the other side
Strange, lovers moan, each others' names,
on by-hour sheets
For, the very first time
One of them's changed the other's some name
she changes every time she lies, across his bed
But the light of the moon leads the way
towards the morning,
and the sun,
the sun's well on the way too soon to know, and
Oh my god, whatever, etc.
If I could, I'd fold myself away
like a card-table, a concertina, or a Murphy bed
I would, but I wasn't made that way
So, you know instead….
I'm open all night and the customers come to stay
And everybody tips, but not enough to knock me over
And, "I'm so tired"… I just worked two shifts
But the light of the moon leads the way
towards the morning, and the sun
The sun's well on it's way too soon to know, and
Oh, oh my god...
Oh my god, whatever, etc.
.
