if I could write you in a novel
I'd portray you on a farm somewhere in France I could diagram the story
I could see that you escape
I could disguise you and drive you to the cape but I never want to tell you why all of this happened
and if I could send you letters
I would sculpt my words with insights
from six centuries
I could talk of my philosophy
watching stars out on the dock
I could argue all the finer points
of Kant, Rousseau and Locke
but I never want to fear anything that I say and I never want to stop you
or keep you from play
and I never never never never ever
want to run away
from my own life
one day (when there's fairer weather)
one day (when you feel much better)
one day soon (when it's so much clearer) one day soon
none of this will matter
so if I brought you painted flowers
could I take you to New Orleans for the summer I could read to you from Dickinson
on her battle with herself
and complain about the heat there
and effects it has on health
but I'm never gonna tell you
how crazy you make me
I'm never gonna be what you wish you were lately and I never never never never ever
hope you feel this far
one day (when there's fairer weather)
one day (when you feel much better)
one day soon (when it's so much clearer) one day soon
none of this will matter
sleeping on the hammock
and wincing as the rain's beginning
writing off the whole thing
pretending that I never noticed
drifting in the aftermath
afterwards it changes
all the suffixes and subtleties
binding me to latter statements
said in anger
said to strangers
stranger things have happened
one day (when there's fairer weather)
one day (when you feel much better)
one day soon
but I never want to be the one
you once regretted
and I never want to make you
or take you for granted
