I am standing on Suffolk & Delancey.
Between the river and the cars,
I’ve got their rhythm in my arm
From my hand to my shoulder.
I’ve got time that the Lower East Side grants me.
What with the winter coming on,
I guess I’m writing a song
To myself, when I’m older.
I am tracing inverted constellations
Between her shoulder blades and spine,
Between her universe and mine,
For as long as I can hold her
I’ve got time, but the morning grows impatient.
And since these moments soon be gone,
I guess I’m writing a song
To myself, when I’m older.
So much has happened already
I’ll never remember it all.
I am chasing three shadows on the pavement-
The way I am, the way I was,
And who I will be- all at once
On this run that I’ brave the cold for.
I’ve got time, but I don’t know where the day went
And with my shadow growing long,
I guess Im writing a song
To myself, when I’m older.
So much has happened already
I’ll never remember it all.
