Ephemeral, ephemeral moments, time that I’ve spent with you is time I want to lock away. Berrieta, mudslide, a Blue Hawaii, melonball on the side, a few Rumplehoos to make us lose our blues and ev-erything’s okay. And please don’t set me down, not until you’re finished. Finished with me, that is. I don’t care what time it is.
Ephemeral, ephemeral daydream, let my mind go wandering, it always knows its way back home. Thoughts of you dominate my thoughts of late and I can’t figure out how I did without your phone calls to my dark. And please don’t wake me up, I don’t care what time it is. The last time for us, that is, unless it’s not because you’re no longer his.
Ephemeral, ephemeral mood swing, why do I feel that what I’ve said is permanent and what I’ve done can’t be undone? And what compensation can I propose for a mouth that would have been best left closed? If I look in your eyes and apologize, the “I’m sorry” comes two words too late. And how can I deny that I’m not disappointed that the only time I know that you will hold me close is when you’re holding onto this grudge?