Knock so I'll know you're still there, half listening, interpreting the air Full of failing foreign tongue, my dialect of stammer come undone I've got these threads of you and I that I use to tie my doubts down, and from four times-zones away, still yesterday, still talking to the past: from the front seat of your car, gravel road and falling, falling hands and falling star
Start the engine up I'd like a new identity A pseudonym Some plastic surgery Or just a way to disappear Someone to write me out of here I hear you hum an unfamiliar song Thought maybe you would come along Perhaps you'd like to see some piece of this; my new philosophy is that a crappy tape deck somewhere plays a greatest hits collection of strange and tender moments, lost, stranded, and forgotten I'll meet you there (Something I forgot to say: can't find a way to make this mark more clear So crack your skull before you weep, and I'll try to keep some part of me sincere)