I always felt a part of me was someplace else.
One eye is always vacant, is this cowlick half his?
I'm searching for that part of me that’s someplace else.
This mind is always vacant, is this hair-lip half mine, half his?
I'm finding out in the worst way;
Finding out in the worst way I'm not fine.
The moonlight in your eye line,
Your eyesight is fading with old age.
Your hand span is unlike any other I’ve seen this side of the equator.
I start by losing sleep, then I'm too sick to eat.
I haven’t left the house in weeks.
I'll be seeing you around town, in car windows, in cafes,
To remind you of the knowledge we were born with.
Are these your footprints in the soft ground?
Is this your shadow that follows me around?