i don't get many things right the first time
in fact, i am told that a lot
now i know all the wrong turns, the stumbles and falls
brought me here
what if i'd been born fifty years before you
in a house on a street where you lived?
maybe i'd be outside as you passed on your bike
would i know?
and in a white sea of eyes
i see one pair that i recognize
next door there's an old man who lived to his nineties
and one day passed away in his sleep
and his wife; she stayed for a couple of days
and passed away
i'm sorry
i know that's a strange way to tell you that i know we belong
that i know
that i am
i am
i am
the luckiest.
