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He kisses the streets I walk.
He knows what he means to me.
Running down. Coming back.
Always another town. Yours.
I would like to hang around.
My mind set on anything.
Try to sleep. Try to rest.
To steal another day. Yours.
For better or for worse,
you’re nowhere to be seen.
You don’t breathe, you don’t look.
We will never meet again.
No one can take your place.
We go round and round again.
And of course, to think of this,
will never do us good.
Early morning driving.
Crossing the rivers. Yours.
You don’t have to worry.
Don’t even have to sleep.
No way to leave. You’re on my mind.
Standing in the cold. Yours.

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