Facing the river,
Facing the wind,
We faced our futures,
And were scared
Of what it had sent.
But breathing deep,
Holding the air in our lungs,
We said what we meant
By holding our tongues.

Sometimes my room
Feels more like a motel.
When my bed is made,
I should be leaving soon,
Or maybe just arriving.

Home, I’ve heard
Is where the heart is,
So babe, you’ll have
To cut me in two
‘Cause my home’s
Always with you.

Cold roast chicken
and cheap blackberry wine
for dinner on Tuesdays
all the time.

Of course we knew
Wizard, Waldo, Scroll
On every page,
But we still continued
To look for him.
Hoping he had moved,
Or perhaps searching for
The only constant in our lives.

Do you think we'll remember
this when we're old?
Will we know we were naive,
or just regret the loss
of it all?

The white bits of dust
that cling to each of the keys
remind me of the night it snowed
and no one saw but you and me.