They sit on steps against the wind
The colors changing growing thin
In lights and lye and lost illusions
Watch these two discussing
What to make of
Unborn children who may take or not take
Let us not break
Their cups are cold their hands are black
They sit at angles but
Distraction will not find them it will find them
In a white room
Where it's all just touching shells
It's touching shells
But It's just nothing
It's just nothing
He would never know
If she had never told
Him that she'd like to be a kind of mother
Now he's on his own
A drift of sallow bone
And nothing there to lift him from the shudder
Your first love teaches you the parts of speech
All the words that you never thought that you could reach
The shop and the bulletproof chinese
The yellow billboard yellow frieze
Of last year's summer flicks
And soon the bus of nations hits
It's blinking in the breeze
Of afternoons and afternoons
Of yawning
And he's longing
And though he's certain that the shudder's tied to fall
His throat is tight can't quite recall
It's in the books or in the wall
That scene of children standing tall?
He clears his throat
He clears it
He's got a place in some small town
Far from the garden and the gown
She wears for someone else
While someone else
Will hold her hand
In some cold off-white room
But he's okay
And you're okay
And we're okay
We break the fall
But he's okay
And you're okay
And we're okay
It's nothing it all