Does he kiss your eyelids in the morning
When you start to raise your head?
And does he sing to you incessantly

From the space between your bed and wall?
Does he walk around all day at school
With his feet inside your shoes?

Looking down every few steps
To pretend he walks with you.
Does he know that place below your neck

That is your favorite to be touched?
And does he cry through broken sentences
And I love you far too much?

Does he lay awake listening to your breath?
Worried you smoke too many cigarettes.
Is he coughing now on a bathroom floor?

For every speck of tile
There is a thousand more
You won't ever see but must hold inside yourself eternally.

Well, I drug your ghost across the country
And we plotted out my death.
In every city, memories would whisper,

Here is where you rest.
I was determined in Chicago
but I dug my teeth into my knees

And I settled for a telephone and sang into your machine.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.

I kissed a girl with a broken jaw that her father gave to her.

She had eyes bright enough to burn me.

They reminded me of yours.
In a story told she was a little girl in a red-rouge,
sun-bruised field and there were rows of ripe tomatoes

Where a secret was concealed.
And it rose like thunder, clapped under our hands.
And it stretched for centuries

To a diary entry's end where I wrote:
You make me happy when the skies are gray
You make me happy the skies are gray and gray and gray.

Well the clock's heart it hangs inside its open chest
With its hands stretched towards the calendar hanging itself
But I will not weep for those dying days.

For all the ones who have left there is a few that stayed.
And they found me here
And pulled me from the grass where I was laid.