You and I are nothing but one awkward silence after another,
and in the canyon where my words should hang, there is a graveyard; tombstones and ghosts...
Unheard sentences caked with the thick scent of failed attempts, and I am you and you are I...
Sleeping on the clouds and melting in the moonlight...
I might try and fill that canyon with a, "May I have this dance?"
and the jazz tune could sweep you towards my world of sweet romance.
But I'm all out of quarters and the jukebox is spent with a
"it's been a good year for the roses" careening through the vents.
So we will sit in my parked car with the engine running low and watch our gullies grow deeper.
Well, I might try and fill that valley with a, "May I have this dance?"
as the jazz tune sweeps you towards my world of sweet romance.
And the wave of piano will turn your tide on every three and bring you
just a little bit closer to me,
and as the jazz tune fills the air around us
we'll just forget about life beyond this breath,
we'll just forget.