Means & Ways

Motes of dust in a room
Perched above the River Seine
Spiderweb of frost
On the window pane again
A vague rumple suggestive of
A human underneath
Evokes the familiar response
Of the clenching of the teeth
Tie a knot in a stomach
Or a piece of string
Living through winter
Just kind of anticipating spring
The smells of danger and fear
Were always close to you
We're raised with these things from birth
And then we put them neatly out of view

I know the secrets of your yesterdays
Dinners and bedsheets and the
source of telltale means and ways
You call it freedom and
That's okay by me
Well if that's your definition
Then I guess by definition you're free

But does it bother you?
Does it seep through?
Well I think that I would have noticed
If the sky were not at least some kind of shade of blue
A pair of pale eyes against me
Was more than I could stand
Each look went in between you & me
And removed the ampersand
Make a point with a needle
And thread it through
As long as you're consistent
The world will consistently forgive you
I find I have some trouble
Trying to fall asleep
But if you can close your eyes at night
Then I guess that I can keep

A secret love is filling in the cracks of yesterday
Giving you the strength to make the choice
between inveigle and inveigh
You say, I am about darkness
and that's okay by me
But if everyone were as dark as you
Pretty soon it would be too dark to see
Well I thought that you thought that I thought
That you thought that I think too much
But I think that you thought that I thought
That you thought that I thought that
You were out of touch
If you're still thinking what I think you're thinking
Then I think that you don't quite see
You see I thought that you knew
What you were doing
And that's one too many thoughts for me

You know the secrets of my present days
Dinners and bedsheets and the source of telltale means and ways
You call it freedom and that's okay by me
Cause I am about darkness and I won't miss the cracks that I can't see

Now I sit perched in this room perched above the River Seine
Watching the motes of dust fall down and down and up and up again
In the breeze made by the shutting door and another day
After a rousing round of dinners and bedsheets and telltale means and ways