I only have this one body
But I write, and I call when I can
And in the dust of the infinite lobby
I think of you, my friends
And my love is not an object
That rusts with lack of use
Suited perfectly for its purpose
As the day I gave it to you
It is a fresh page, it is a sharp knife
It is a cold call, it is an alibi
You are a universe of faces
But sometimes I go it alone
Fill my arms with what I can carry
And my body is my home
And if I lock on to a strange face
I see an ancient sun, I see my birthplace
And forgive me for my silence
I forget the follow through
And any lie I ever told you
Was to seek a better truth
You are a suitcase I never unpacked;
I am a green shirt that never left your back
We live in black and white, on a telephone pole
I can read the letters eyes closed
