Tactless

I noticed that she’d thrown out the postcard
The one printed with the same four words she’d held to my blackmail
A kind of ransom note: «wish you were here»
It was a long way to come over from Toronto
And the closer we got, the more I thought that
Maybe we weren’t so close after all
You say I’m tactless
(I'm not the one that’s picking a fight)
At stanmore maccas
(As old Parramatta Road throws)
Effusions skywards
(Streetlights scream like ibises)
On the Bankstown line
(I remember waving goodbye to the train)
I remember waving goodbye to the train
I remember waving goodbye to the train
I remember waving goodbye to the train
The blue and the grey on the edge of your canvas, dear
I remember we were here, not too long ago
Everything points like receipts for your materials
Back to a shared meal
When we weren’t doing too well
I just can’t kick it
(The cold in the living room’s so…)
I bought this ticket
(It's not the same as going home)
But mountains are mountains
(So take a weekend on your own)
And yeah, I’m hurting
(But I’m waving goodbye to the train)
I remember waving goodbye to the train
I remember waving goodbye to the train
I remember waving goodbye to the train
I know that you’ll find this
Because i’ve put it between the pages of your copy of
Les Fleurs du Mal
I can tell what that book means to you
From just how beaten up and dogeared it is
Maybe you think of me that way
Warm, used up, weathered by misery and mildew
But no matter how many times we close the book
I know that we’ll leave a corner folded on the page we left off
I hope when you get back we’ll open the cover and find our place again
With spleen and ideals
TJ