Now it's years since your body went flat and even memories of that
Are all think and dull, all gravel and glass. But who needs them
Now -- displaced they're easily more safe --
The worst of it now: I can't remember your face.
For a while, with the vertigo cured, we were alive -- we were pure.
The void took the shape of all that you were, but years take their toll,
And things get bent into shape...
Antiseptic and tired, I can't remember your face.
You were supposed to grow old. Reckless, unfrightened, and old,
You were supposed to grow old.
Return. You were supposed to return.