| Lyrics: | Thinking back, it seems that I
can lie beside you as I never truly did,
in afterglow
-
no afterwords at all.
Only writing love songs when it's gone and dead;
only paying
words out: strings of half-forgotten sentiments...
I mean...
I meant...
I never
really quite could say the way it was.
The first time that we met I said 'I bet that
she's the one',
but I was talking to myself then, as always.
As time went by our steps
entwined, unwritten lines drew taut
and I tried to find a way to make it all safe...
Into
the play - what a production! -
into the days and ever more suction:
you hold me close,
but hold me farther
away from yourself - I make me a martyr,
for pain and love go hand in
hand...
And hand in hand go you and my friend,
You are his and I am yours and just cannot
evade you;
my days a dream, my nights unseemly,
stolen moments all I live for,
but
theft is no way to persuade you
to come with me, leave him behind you;
my hurtful eyes try
to remind you
it's all I can do to keep from screaming
'I love you, I love you!' - I wish
I was dreaming,
but the steps we take all leave footprints...
Sooner or later the
whole thing will be blown:
you will leave him or I'll be left here, alone.
Either way
someone loses someone
but I won't mind that, I just would quite like to know
who we love
the most - I guess that's ourselves.
The days are strange, at night we're
strangers,
lie in bed and lie inside our heads,
we come no closer than as
dancers.
Your eyes are change, your presence danger,
won't look me in the face and yet
you
kiss and make up the answer
to all the questions that fly unanswered, unreasoned
-
death in the sky, death in the season.
If you leave me now, it might nearly kill
me...
Remember me?
Remember we three?
it all seemed so important at the
time,
we came so close to wrecking all our lives,
and now it's all just song
lines.
Time heals,
time heals -
oh, but I still bear the
weals.
Thinking back, it seems that I
can lie beside you as I never truly
did,
in afterglow -
no afterwords at all.
Only writing love songs when it's gone and
dead;
only paying words out: strings of half-forgotten sentiments...
I
mean...
I meant...
I never really quite could say the way it was |
