Return

Now its years since your body went flat and even memories of that

are all think and dull, all gravel and glass. But who needs them

now -- displaced they're easily more safe --

the worst of it now: I can't remember your face.

Return.

For a while, with the vertigo cured, we were alive -- we were pure.

The void took the shape of all that you were, but years take their toll,

and things get bent into shape...

Antiseptic and tired, I can't remember your face.

Return.

You were supposed to grow old. Reckless, unfrightened, and old,

you were supposed to grow old.

Return. You were supposed to return.