seven days, a Monday made
|
the mile to my house,
|
and had me do
|
a stroll with you.
|
|
far below a furry moon
|
our purposes crossed
|
the weird divide
|
between our kinds
|
|
the silver leaves of ailing trees
|
took flights as we passed
|
so long ago
|
but a short time i know.
|
|
it pleases me this memory
|
has swollen up with age.
|
even time can do
|
good things to you.
|
|
-----------------
|
The Weird Divide
|
| The Shins |
