It was the best of years
The worst of years
It lent itself easy to paraphrase
Call me Bartleby
Call me anything
People just don't share their feelings
They leave them inside
So they don't catch a burning sun
And get left alive alone for winter
Falling in love and falling apart
Picking up the pieces
In looking we find, but ever
Do we find the missing?
Do we find the missing?
I wish I could see you again
Eyes of sapphire green and pink sleeves
Eating pizza and talking of Michaelangelo
These canned peaches
Were really something
And I'm just left drawing the label