Where else would I look at but the eyes
Eyes that seem to bring to a time I cannot remember
Where else have I seen that lopsided smile
but in the distant memories
precious, hidden, safe
I wonder what are in those eyes that make me
write like I always do, make music with rhythm blues
Brown eyes that draw me in until I’m walking straight
down the path I had always been through
except now the pavement looks clearer
as if the fog has been lifted, vacuumed into my centre
Where else have I gone when I had looked into those eyes?
Stuck in quicksand made of honey, I feel like swimming
Why do I feel like I have held your hands—
such things beyond boring reason