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lyrics
The truth is that the truth
lies between
two songs, between
two pages, after
day, before night.
It lies right
at the bottom of
the top, at the middle of
the end, half way between black
and white, where today
ends and tomorrow
has not yet
started.
The truth is that our
words, dear, can never
hit home the way we hit
rock bottom every time we
rise and try to get it just
right, be it the cake we let
burn that evening in May or the
lawn we simply refused to mow
because we would much
rather lie flat on
each other's backs.
And the grass grew against walls and up
into the windows and up
to the ceiling where it covered
not only the cracks but
also the silken spiderwebs I had woven
while you were asleep.
The truth is that the truth
lies.
It lies
in wait.