I Get My Kicks for You

We write songs like letters
I’ve saved shining scars
I’ve saved your drawings of moons and space-ships and stars
It’s time to try out health
I’m gonna try and be okay for you
Now there’s no providence
Or a rainy Arabic wine
Floating tense in Paris
Insomnia and dreams
Down filled pillows
No constants
Numbers 13, 11‚ 407
You can accept celestial facts about short attention spans
Or swallow potential heart attacks
I’ll still open your letters
And sing your songs
It’s confusing to wake up
Cliché
And go to sleep alone
I want to hear your voice
Even if it’s only through the phone
This thing between us is scientific
But I’d like to practice it to get it straight
I’ll talk to you soon
Like a wisdom tooth extraction
Oh‚ you know it had to happen