White Room

In the white room, with black curtains, near the station.
Blackroof country, no gold pavements, tired starlings.
Silver horses shine down moonbeams in your dark eyes.
Dawnlight smiles, on you leaving, my contentment.

I'll wait in this place, where the sun does not shine.
I'll wait in this place, where the shadows run from themselves.

You said no strings could secure you at the station.
Platform ticket, restless diesels, goodbye windows.
I walked into such a sad time at the station.
As I walked out, felt my own need just beginning.

I'll wait in the queue, when the trains come back.
Lie with you where the shadows run from themselves.

At the party, she was kindness, in the hard crowd.
Consolation, for the old wound, now forgotten.
Yellow tigers, crouched in jungles, in her dark eyes.
She's just dressing, goodbye windows, tired starlings.

I'll sleep in this place, with the lonely crowd.
Lie in the dark, where the shadows run from themselves.