Dance record from before I was born on the stereo,
playing last rights for my late nights;
all of my evenings and all of my everydays.
No business in the same place;
coffee, scrambled eggs.
Starting our separate ways,
now are separate days.
By the time you read this,
this house will have changed hands one more time again.
Wherever you are,
dialing up friends on someone else’s telephone.
In someone else’s home.
Why did ever we part and give back our hands?
Nothing but wear between all of my everything’s.