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Now its years since your body went flat and even memories of that
are all think and dull, all gravel and glass. But who needs them now
displaced they're easily more safe
the worst of it now: I can't remember your face.

Return.

For a while, with the vertigo cured, we were alive we were pure.
The void took the shape of all that you were, but years take their toll,
and things get bent into shape...
Antiseptic and tired, I can't remember your face.

Return.

You were supposed to grow old. Reckless, unfrightened, and old,
you were supposed to grow old.

Return. You were supposed to return