Monday, January 24, 2005
Stop kissing my arse.
I step off the train.
I'm walking down your streets again.
And part your door, but you don't live there anymore.
Its years since you've been there now you disappeared somewhere like outer space.
You've found some better place.
And I miss you, like the deserts miss the rain.
Could you be dead?
You always were two steps ahead of everyone.
We'd walk behind while you would run.
I look up at your house and I can almost hear you shout down to me where I always used to be.
And I miss you, like the deserts miss the rain.
Back on the train I ask why did I come again?
Can I confess I’ve been hanging around your old address?
And the years have proven to offer nothing since you moved.
You're long gone, but I can't move on.
And I miss you, like the deserts miss the rain.
It's all about us
