We pull off at the side of the highway in Somewhere, Maine looking to sing to the snails. There's a deep shoulder of gravel here, so we assume it to be a parking lot. The sky and the water and the ... [+]
Now, had you ever cared to inform me
Of what it means to waste careless years
Wishing that I was anywhere but here,
Perhaps I could embrace this idea of new-age wholeness
As one forcibly embraces discordant notes in utterly forgettable symphonies,
With eager hands clasped in anticipation of a return to what was promised.
And yet, I don't crave an escape from the comfort of
The home I found in the feeling of your skin pressed
Tightly against mine; a quiet rebellion.
For once, I beg of you,
I don't need you to lead me to a way out of here.
I just need you to sit here with me,
Unmistakably taking up space.
Of what it means to waste careless years
Wishing that I was anywhere but here,
Perhaps I could embrace this idea of new-age wholeness
As one forcibly embraces discordant notes in utterly forgettable symphonies,
With eager hands clasped in anticipation of a return to what was promised.
And yet, I don't crave an escape from the comfort of
The home I found in the feeling of your skin pressed
Tightly against mine; a quiet rebellion.
For once, I beg of you,
I don't need you to lead me to a way out of here.
I just need you to sit here with me,
Unmistakably taking up space.