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I've often dreamt of a conversation |
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That just keeps on coming up again and again |
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We're sitting in the baby bar bereft |
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At a shadowy table out past the sentence's end |
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It's an emergency without end |
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From until it's no longer fun |
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To that's no longer relevant |
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From until we're no longer one |
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To the bona fide embodiment |
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Of an endless emergency without end |
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We're an endless emergency without end |
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We often stop in these conversations |
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Things we say here stay here forever, amen |
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When everything seems either funny or lousy |
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Funny or lousy, that's where it usually ends |
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We're an emergency without end |
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From until it's no longer fun |
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To that's no longer relevant |
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From until we're no longer one |
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To that's no longer permanent |
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From the last survivors of those terms |
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To the bona fide embodiment |
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Of an endless emergency without end |
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We're an endless emergency without end |
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We're an endless emergency without end |
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We're an endless emergency without end |
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But your finger starts to wiggle |
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And landscapes emerge |
