Damp eyes never meant us well
They're such an inconvenience
And passersby
won't fall in line
Step aside nor
slow their stride
But we'll ignore their careless eyes
Don't want to inconvenience

Cross streets, mean streets, it's
the blind leading the blind
And maybe we're wasting our time
'Cause the map in our hands
spells out misprinted boundaries and
Who can read smeared ink
Run off the page into unknown
territories dripping purple as the bruises
beneath our fingertips

If we hold on any tighter
Our travels will be
Etched into the other's skin
A directory of streets wandered by
the two of us just
a walk down route mother, please and
Round to relapse avenue
To sip champagne
in the light of
dreams forgotten

*but darling the lines in my palms
have always led back to you