1921

I'm tired of being reasonable

I'm tired of waiting for

Some sign of the old land

To wash up on the shore

In the city's afternoon

Behind the buildings, a white moon

Watched us look for a room that night

But we could not find a room

The key to you ever since we met

Is you don't lock any doors

I'm climbing up those stony steps

My shoes on the wet wood floor

Now she's in the shower, I hear the pipes creaking

Groaning like the traffic outside

She comes down and sits next to me

My mouth was open wide

Your picture is a portrait

The portrait's never done

I don't know how it got here

But I know where it's from