[00:00.000] 作曲 : Erica Jong/Vanessa Daou
[00:32.434] Now, moving in, cartons on the floor
[00:36.885] The radio playing to bare walls
[00:40.961] Picture hooks left stranded
[00:45.185] In the unsoiled squares where paintings were
[00:49.034] And something reminding us
[00:53.078] This is like all other moving days;
[00:56.752] Finding the dirty ends of someone else's life
[01:01.338] Hair fallen in the sink, a peach pit
[01:07.563] And burned-out matches in the corner;
[01:13.571] Things not preserved, yet never swept away
[01:18.078] Like fragments of disturbing dreams
[01:22.148] We stumble on all day
[01:29.463] In ordering our lives, we will discard them
[01:34.289] Scrub clean the floorboards of this our home
[01:42.358] Lest refuse from the lives we did not lead
[01:46.464] Become, in some strange, frightening way, our own
[01:54.522] And we have plans that will not tolerate our fears
[01:59.553] A year laid out like rooms in a new house
[02:07.052] The dusty wine glasses rinsed off
[02:11.247] The vases filled, and bookshelves sagging with heavy winter books
[02:19.770] Seeing the room always as it will be
[02:23.196] We are content to dust and wait
[02:27.427] We will return here from the dark and silent streets
[02:32.378] Arms full of books and food
[02:35.354] Anxious as we always are in winter
[02:39.559] And looking for the Good Life we have made
[02:43.806] I see myself then: tense, solemn
[02:50.112] In high-heeled shoes that pinch
[02:54.067] Not basking in the light of goals fulfilled
[02:58.099] But looking back to now and seeing
[03:02.290] A lazy, sunburned, sandaled girl
[03:08.451] In a bare room, full of promise
[03:12.391] And feeling envious
[03:16.601] Now we plan, postponing
[03:20.600] Pushing our lives forward into the future
[03:24.880] As if, when the room contains us and all our treasured junk
[03:32.479] We will have filled whatever gap it is that makes us wander
[03:38.379] Discontented from ourselves
[03:42.096] The room will not change:
[03:45.163] A rug, or armchair, or new coat of paint won't make much difference;
[03:52.939] Our eyes are fickle
[03:56.562] But we remain the same beneath our suntans
[04:01.698] Pale, frightened
[04:06.001] Dreaming ourselves backward and forward in time
[04:10.230] Dreaming our dreaming selves
[04:14.239] I look forward and see myself look back