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