New At The Getty
Boy Named Crow
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It's you at the Getty, in your flowery blouse
It's my mediocre coffee at that gallery along the coast
Fucked up scene at the aquarium
Screaming kids; I lost my head
And a Mogwai song on the stereo as we drive into the sun
But this time it's us who will be skeletons
You were smiling at the Getty in your summer dress
I was handing you the sunscreen, a scene that I can't forget
Until we're on Ocean Beach and my skin is turning red
A talking seagull on the hood of my car
Spilt beer at the hotel bar
Polaroids on corkboard,
Flowers on your Ikea desk.
We speak in our own language
Nonsense words out of context
But the meaning is in the saying and the laughter in between
The meaning is in the saying, not the understanding
You're crying over clam chowder, I'm thinking over coffee
I tell you everything is ok, and it looks like you believe me
We sleep back in our hotel room then see the M's walk off the Yankees
I forget to tell you that I love you until you tell me that you love me
And when I finally say it back to you you're smiling in your sleep
I pull you close to me
Polaroids on corkboard
Flowers on your Ikea desk
We spoke in our own language
Nonsense words that meant nothing
But the meaning was in the saying and in the laughter in between
The meaning was in the saying, intuitive understanding