She’ll never know, when she tells you goodnight,
The fear that you hide, as she lays by your side.
When you stand, all the faults of a man
Etched right in your face, still she lays there in place.
How the warmth of the garden you sowed.
Is the stuff of these bones, once broken and cold.
And you go home and you sleep in your bed,
Feel like your dancing in sync with the ghosts in your head.
And she wakes. You say, “go back to sleep,”
You dare never say, the greatest secret you keep
Is that you might be alone, that you might have to run,
That the rest of your life will be a series of nights
That you spend in your mind
Staring backwards through time
At something you lost.
And you’ll never be home. You’ll never be one
Eyes closed in the sun on a warm day in June.
But on the damp dirty floor of your wintry cold room,
You see her face in the dust. How it fills you up.
And you say “Hello. Hello.
Please don’t ever leave. Please don’t ever go,
And you can call me a man.
It’s etched right in my face.
But it could never span
the endless expanse of space
all around us
And just this one small home,
One brief moment of time,
The only thing I call mine
is this line that we crossed
And how it came at the cost
Of everything that I lost.
This is all so vulgar. You know, the business of music, this business of discussing it — the point at which the dream life of the song butts up against the day-time reality of logic and punctuation and “analysis” (don’t even get me started on “awards”). I don’t like any of it. Because the whole point of the song is to express something that can’t be expressed any other way. That’s why you have to make it in the first place.
I’m glad we get these moments to share our thoughts, you and I. And I’m enormously grateful there are people who will hear these songs. But there’s a contract here that begins and ends in the song. Meaning—I don’t know how to say what I want to say most of the time, except by singing and writing and scoring and recording something. So I’d rather just get out of the way.
There are a lot of big ideas in this song about isolation and fear, about connection and distance, mortality and fate. But if you’re reading this, it probably means you have already figured that out for yourself and with any luck the song has already taken on a life of its own in your own mind. I’d rather my thoughts remain anonymous behind the veil of the song itself here and wish only for you that if you get this song that you are able to hold on tight to what you have and maybe some day a million trillion heartbreakingly endless amount of time in the future—our ashes will commingle on some distant star and we can both know that for a very brief time we were the luckiest bits of dust in all creation.