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The City Is a Painting
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The bower broke the art of fiction
She asks me to make her come and I say
"First tell me all about your rare affliction"
The city is a painting and
I make out only half the words she traced
On foggy mirrors, the parsing of lips
And tapping SOS
It's anybody's guess
And I know all she's got left to spend
Is her time on me so let's pretend
That I've got all the time in the world
And she's got all the time in the world
So let's spend all the time in the world
The quixotic pause and the wake that followed
The floating buoys in the lake that swallowed
Our unlaid plans and the unmade plea
The modest mention or the fierce decree
That we are all the same
We've only changed the names
And all the rest remains
And I know all she's got left to spend
Is her time on me so let's pretend
That I've got all the time in the world
And she's got all the time in the world
So let's spend all the time in the world