These lovers languishing lazily,
Lazy morning simplicity
Lazy, over the papers, he
Says I'm unimpressed if you outshine me
An endless stream of lips and wine —
Everything that isn't mine —
I'll never know if it was true,
But I'll wonder sometimes about loving you
And you don't give up until you'll be
The artist-lover you couldn't see
You don't give up until you'll be
The artist-lover you couldn't see
And she says she'll love you some day
But I don't have to to tell you I love you so loud anymore.
I don't have to be where I fall on the floor anymore.
The Brooklyn lovers we'll never be —
Off-white sneakers and languishing,
Packing, moving, so aimlessly
Isolated from anything.
She says she'll love you some day
She says she'll love you some day
She knows she'll love you some day
Don't hate her; she'll love you some other day
And the women I love are so dark in their light to pretend,
Shielding the lightness like pennies they'd rather not spend.
And I hate like a vision how minutes can pass in the night,
Afraid at the end of a fiction my mind will be wiped.
Holding notes at the end of time,
Alone in circles, selling rhymes,
Freeze things up in the air sometimes,
And never know it wasn't true;
But I'll wonder sometimes about loving you.