This is the answer to the letter unsent
Which even so arrived some years later
Like a song sometimes, written for love
Long before it is alive
Oh the poems sighed to sweet faces
Caught away in some damned machine
Leaving them no quieter time
To liken things to other things
Trying to describe other things
Now safe with the answer to a question unasked
That needed no reply
He is singing a description of a song he cannot write
About how hard it is to cry
And are the words in the wrong places
Or the spaces stumbling in between
Or is there just no brighter time
To liken things to other things
Trying to describe other things