There is something I have to say
Cause I'm leaving some time today
And I can't tell when I'll be back.

It's easy to imagine me here.
The phone keeps a voice so near.
But that kind of exchange hides the fact

That I'm going so very far.
And today I know who you are.
But tomorrow the space will make us other souls.


Can we find communion again?
In the bedroom or just as friends?

Is there difference between in lives like ours?

I feel deserving of love.

Can it be something I dispose of?
Or put away in a box under the bed?
Will it rot there and spoil my days?

Or recharge them in other ways?
Will it lift me to heights when I am dead?
What if I cannot live for you?

But for others still as I do?
How then will you absorb this word: goodbye?