Softly drooping willow fronds and
lonely little gosling feathers
and a concrete bench perches
upon the brink.

Singing these songs, we wait
for a silence to break
all these words tumbling over
each other
ceaselessly.

You can say you’re sorry
and that you love me and
that everything will be all right
and I know that you’re not quite wrong
but you’re not
quite right.

So keep singing these songs
and we’ll wait
for a silence to break
all these words tumbling over
like the tapping
on our phones.

You can grab your coffee cup
and lean forward on your elbows
in that special way you do for me
and I know that you’re not quite wrong
but you’re not
quite right.

And yeah be singing those songs
and we’ll wait
for a silence to break
all these words tumbling over
in sync
like these beating hearts.

You can put your book down
and cry your tears and my honey
I know it hurts I know
and I know that you’re not quite wrong
and you’re not
quite right.
It’s alright.
It’s alright.

There’s a cold bench
somewhere
sitting atop a brink
somewhere
and goslings under willow trees
somewhere
and it’s alright.
It’s alright.