|
The card on the table have changed |
|
The ones who have left can't be traced, |
|
But all who are here can be trusted to not say a thing |
|
The doorways tonight hold the ones |
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Who've taken to being undone |
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And lust for the love of all the ones who won't mean a thing |
|
But it's alright |
|
It's so alright |
|
To be without |
|
The lost and founds |
|
Of some weekend night |
|
The last wheel to spin for to turn |
|
Has put down a blanket and yearns |
|
For the sigh that was spun from its wheelspinning trickle of light |
|
But it's alright |
|
It's so alright |
|
It's so alright |
