Now its years since your body went flat and even memories of that
Are all think and dull, all gravel and glass. But who needs them
Now -- displaced they're easily more safe -- the worst of it now: I
Can't remember your face.

Return.

For a while, with the vertigo cured, we were alive -- we were pure.
The void took the shape of all that you were, but years take their
Toll, and things get bent into shape... Antiseptic and tired, I can't
Remember your face.

Return.

You were supposed to grow old. Reckless, unfrightened, and old,
You were supposed to grow old.

Return. You were supposed to return.