here are more words i’m donating to
the waste of time i spend on you
i lower a bucket into a dust dry well
searching for some new story to tell

but all i draw is this pebble truth
i long for rumor in place of proof
some mystery to flow through my hands
at least something i can’t understand

i hope someday you’ll think of me
but you were never one for history

you are that one note sung so soft
i can’t reach, i’m always off
so i try to catch you in my song
but every time it sounds so wrong

and like a sport that children enjoy
the men who play it are destroyed
when the game is over, everyone goes home
but i am not willing to leave alone