The reverb in the stairwell travels long and fair -- I whistle and i clap.
Booming cathedrals in Europe, cathedrals in Boston, I remember these often. And does my mood begin to soften like the sand on the bed of a gentle rising tide? These times are when i find it more easy to abide -- I just loosen up and stare...
but i like to keep it to myself. I rarely share, because i know my friends don't really want to hear it. You're not supposed to see signs in the way the lamplight yellows the lane.
These times are when i find it more simple to abide -- i just loosen up and stare. And find one true amazement there: when i finally look away one lingering picture stays. Oh how i want to always play and keep growing, every day, my romantic climbing vine. But my hours fill up really fast, and as i tally every task, i think i'll never see the view.
But i like to keep that to myself, i rarely share. Because i know my friends don't really care. We all just keep our own time, don't want to stress them with my arhythmic pace.
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