We have arrived
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"I leapt across three or four beds into your armsWhere I had hidden myself somewhere in your charmOur golden handshake has been smashed into this shape.It's taken magic to a primitive new placeWatch 'em run, although it's the minimum, heroicWe hunched together in one chair out on the deckIn snow that froze and fell down on the modern setIt looked as if I picked your name out of a hatNext thing you know you are asleep in someone’s lapWatch 'em run, although it's the minimum, heroicWe quit the roomQuit so our thoughts could restRest them, I'll never move?That's when we grab a holdOf whatever it is we fell intoLousy with your contentWith what the majestic cannot findIn business of your livesThe perception, it is wrong, mile after mileThe phantom taste drinking wine from your heelsWe have arrived too late to play the bleeding heart show"I want to take the last minute-and-a-half of this song, stretch it out into an endless reverberation, repeating the last line over and over, and give it to everyone I have ever known who has nursed misery for far too long. The music tiptoes around before breaking through a wall of sound into a communal joy so pure that it never fails to bring me to the verge of tears. Because at a certain point you just break through. How can I hand that feeling out?
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