I know we’ve never met
But I’d really love it, if I could fall apart in your little palm
Like late November midnight rain, breathing down in Manhattan\
I hope you’ll hold onto me,
And not let me pass,like a fistful of sand in a toddler’s palm
I’d like to think,that you like The National,as much as I do
And that you too,hum their songs softly,
Past midnight because you’re lonely,
And don’t have much else to do
I’d like to think you’re the kind of person who cooks
While I ramble incoherently about my loneliness.
I know we’ve never met
But I feel like maybe you’d tell me
How you do not allow anyone else into the kitchen when you cook,
Or how you like to fish for compliments about your food
Tell me,tell me everything
You hide away in your little journal,
And let me,let me become yours tonight
I know we have never met,but
I feel like you’ll wear my pullovers,
And I’ll break a little smile that has been buried
For nearly 20 years now.
I feel like, we will pickup a bottle of cheap Spanish wine
From an illegal liquor store just by the outskirts of our small town,
And we will get drunk and shitfaced on your rooftop,
With Richard Hawley playing in the background,
I’ll softly place my head on your lap,and close my eyes.
I’ll know, that I’m safe.
When it gets late,and crowds almost sparse on the streets
I will come at last, to carry you home
And you’ll look almost relieved down in my arms
Like you’re free, and now you can breathe
Like you’ve broken through the shackles and chains
And when it’s just me, alone under the neon light
Light that burns like a fire in the parking lots of hell
By way of honoring what I hold dear
When it gets dark and late at night
I will remember you
Yes, you who are broken,
You ,who turned into stone,waiting by the phone
You ,who was edited out of the final cut,
You ,whose hand is burdened by my heart,
I know we’ve never met
But, if we do
Will you please stay with me,and help me to end the day?