| disengaged Outside the track is humming, and I know before I hear it the train is passing by. Oh, I know I could go- I could swing aboard, live the hobo way; but no. Is it the rumble of the monster as it rushes on its way; or are my fingers trembling upon the windowsill? Oh, I know, I know I couldn't go. My life is here. I couldn't go. |
| unnoticed, watching you your hand moved while you slept- what did you dream? did you stand in front of millions making love to your guitar? did you once again order me to "get the other M50"? or did you dream of her pale-faced, dark-haired - did you brush the hem of her dress as she, laughing, turned away? |
| twilight I whisper soap bubbles into the sky. Cloud-obscured, the sun shone weakly. These days are soon gone. I know the songs the birds are sighing, the rapture of the wind, the silence between the two. In silence, soon, these days are twilight, then gone. |