We Get Something To Do And As

I Suppose All We Can Really Share With People Is A Taste For The Same Kinds Of Weather.

Nobody Has Ever Measured, Not Even Poets, How Much The Heart Can Hold.

I Don’t Suppose I Really Know You Very Well - But I Know You Smell Like The Delicious Damp Grass That Grows Near Old Walls And That Your Hands Are Beautiful Opening Out Of Your Sleeves And That The Back Of Your Head Is A Mossy Sheltered Cave When There Is Trouble In The Wind And That My Cheek Just Fits The Depression In Your Shoulder.

Youth Doesn't Need Friends -- It Only Needs Crowds.

We Walked At Night Towards A Cafe Blooming With Japanese Lanterns And I Followed Your White Shoes Gleaming Like Radium In The Damp Darkness. Rising Off The Water, Lights Flickered An Invitation Far Enough Away To Be Interpreted As We Liked; To Shimmer Glamourously Behind The Silhouette Of Retrospective Good Times When We Still Believed In Summer Hotels And The Philosophies Of Popular Songs.