scrawling some news on the back of a letter
the writing were good if the paper were better.

people will come
people will go

people will lie
people will know

people will lose
people will burn
people will leave
people return.

I wish I could put a name to my fear;
I wish we were close,
I wish you were near.

I wish you were here on a bike and a sled
We could play in the yard
We could build in the shed

We could take out guitars
We could plant a new tree
We could get real bizarre
We could talk about me

And all that it’s worth
And all that we’re able.
I’d give my whole life;
I’ll punch through a table.

people will come
people will go

people will lie
people will know.