I sit in warmth and plenty
but the down of feathers
is too thick
it smothers

Every day I sit with you
a moment long enough
But my mouth opens only
to comment on your day
Tell you that your son is well
or sick
I'll come tomorrow at 10:15
I'll babysit an extra day
I'm sorry your cousin's girlfriend's sister
died in Paris Friday

When I talk to God I feel him drawing in
But like the pain of over fullness
I feel an empty in my heart
For I know an outlet's missing

I guess I'm close enough to tell
when the time is right to share
I don't need a foghorn in my ear