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An old lost book has reappeared |
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With the pages all dog-eared |
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That's how |
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I know you've been here |
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The garden's gone to rack and ruin |
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But I'll be up and the crack of noon |
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In time to seize the evening |
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They say that waking up is hard to do |
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It doesn't take a |
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Sherlock Holmes |
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To decipher all your poems |
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As abstract as you make them |
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Put painted hand-prints on |
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T-shirts Laugh until the stomach hurts |
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Days like these don't have price tags |
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Talk of the love and the like |
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She let him borrow her bike |
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With tyres gasping for air |
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Brought it back with wheel rim buckled |
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He hopes that with any luck she'll |
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Decide to ride the bus to work come morning |
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They say that waking up is hard to do |
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But when she did |
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Breaking up has never been easier |
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Now there's a hint of that perfume |
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On blankets in the lounge room |
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That's how |
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I know you slept there |
