Living two-thousand-four-hundred fifty-nine miles from home
When again that line from Eleanor Rigby cuts me to the bone
I’ve read “the Lord God said it is not good for man to be alone”
But you can leave me anytime
Some damage done, we left for London with the sun low in the sky
To let St. Edward fix us breakfast if not otherwise obliged
To drown in doubts the future needs us, if by chance it should arrive
You can leave me anytime
Eight sleepless days the scales of Libra weighed the stars to my design
I looked around inside and all I saw were unsympathetic eyes
I’ll tear my shirts and shatter windows, do my best to act surprised
If you leave me anytime
You can leave me anytime
