And I am listening to the low moan
And I can't let it go
And I can't get through...
The old woman behind the pink curtains
She's listening through the air shaft
To see how long our swan song can last
Oh, no don't close your eyes
I am drawing the story of
I am watching your chest rise and fall
Like the tides of my life,
And your bones have been my bed frame
And your flesh has been my pillow
And in each other's shadows we grew less and less tall
And eventually our theories couldn't explain it all
And I'm recording our history now on the bedroom wall
And when we leave the landlord will come
And I am listening to the low moan of the dial tone again
And I am getting nowhere with you
And I can't let it go
And I can't get though
Oh, no don't close your eyes
I am writing graffiti on your body
I am drawing the story of how hard we tried