Now that it's June, we'll sleep out in the garden.
And if it rains, we'll just sink in to the mud.
Where it is quiet, and much cooler than the house is.
And there's no clocks or phones to wake us up.
Because I have learned that nothing is as pressing,
as the one who's pressing would like you to believe.
And I'm content to walk a little slower,
because there's nowhere that I really need to be.
And I find that life is easier,
when it's just a blur with no details to confuse who or what or where I was,
so when the ending comes, the full regret will seem obscure.
But these are days we dream about when the sunlight paints us gold
and this apartment could not be prettier as we dance up there alone.
And this TV's old, the color's fucked, do you see the difference in the shades?
But the green's still close to green, my love, and I believe we are the same.
And we'll stay like this, all gold and green - light collects,
it projects your heart on a movie screen.
And if you close your eyes we will always be the way we were that night you
crawled inside of me.
And you slept in my blood the way you sleep now,
the quietest hush has consumed this house.
And when the doctors have gone and you sweat through the bed
with the pictures and pills they piled around your head.
Well, just rest now and in a moment you'll know everything.
Was it all a dream?
It's too vague now to recount.
And the outline of the one you loved in a life that was that no longer will be
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