These circumstances, these days of the week Ill pick them up, fold them in, make them origami til words form within and give me something to sing Boats, trains, aeroplanes..Ill take anything. These sweet pieces of loves etiquette Spoil my appetite and make me forget Cant find the hole that enabled the fall Cant find the quarters to make sense of it all When you were blind, I wrote a letter in braille Thinking that you would take it as just everyday mail, I carved out a solider, wounded, laid on a cot In quotes he asked you why it was that you shot You left me looking for Sunday Comfort on a Monday afternoon.