Typing letters to the dead
Late at night on a closed piano lid
She circles past, she fills your glass
But she doesn't recognise the song
Once in a lifetime she says
The waking life stitched together in your head
Well, what if it's only worth
The bundle of nerves it's written on?
I don't need these arms anymore
I don't need this heart, not to love
I don't need this skin and bone at all
At all
There's a way you've alwys known her
Telephone between her cheek and her shoulder
Eyes like crystal balls
That just won't shut up about the future of the future
Ramona was a waitress
All but made of information
In a bar under the third bridge
She says she's looking forward to living forever
I don't need these arms anymore
I don't need this heart, not to love
I don't need this skin and bone at all
At all
