Arabesques of smoke curl into a twilit sky,
From cigarettes that glow like fireflies.
I look from my window at the people below.
Always changing, but never really new.
I'm not a pretender, though I sometimes pretend.
That I know just where this street will end.
Always beginning, we're never quite done,
But then I think you always knew.
Will we end up on Mobius Street.
Where the sidewalk bends and twists beneath our feet.
I will make amends on Mobius Street.
There are no strangers here.
If I said I was sorry, would anything be changed?
Would all the pieces fit, the pattern rearrange?
Moving ahead with such relentless purpose.
Forever changed by little accidents.
This street's not forever, but it never seems to end.
I know we'll stay together, though neither wants to bend.
The horizon is nearer than we could ever dream.
But then I think you always knew.
Will we end up on Mobius Street.
Where the sidewalk bends and twists beneath our feet.
I will make amends on Mobius Street.
There are no strangers here.
Across the street, we see ourselves reflected.
Images from some crazy funhouse mirror.
Straight lines, always seem deflected,
Bridge the gap to make an imperfect circle.
We will end up on Mobius Street
Below the surface everything repeats.
I have friends on Mobius Street
We are not strangers here.