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Turbulence
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Fred Thomas
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1
You were a journalist when we first kissed
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And I held my breath and waited
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For the world to turn inside me
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But you fucked me up somethin' serious
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And left a mess for whoever next would come along and find me
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Lane, Lane,
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hiding in the corners of your heart
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Sleeping in the backseat of your car
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Lane, Lane,
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sleeping beneath you on your floor
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Sleeping on your back porch
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Even the birds would sing of the sweltering
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Summer of unprecedented nervous sleep and nightmares
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There was something else I had to sing myself
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A song of love was coming up but never really gets there
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Loneliest art of loneliness
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Was always lost on you
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The intricate emptiness
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One plus two?
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Now all the scientists and mathematicians
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Are sorting through your garbage
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To try to find evidence about you
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But soon enough they too will be left
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Because live or die you realize
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The world still turns without you
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Lane, Lane,
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hiding in the corners of your heart
28
Sleeping in the backseat of your car
29
Lane, Lane,
30
sleeping beneath you on the floor
31
Sleeping on your back porch
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