for years and years i've tried to keep my head above the water
the line between the darkness and the sunshine that defines it
for years i've wondered what it is i'd ever get to tell her
if the line between those metaphors was ever that complicit
for years and years and years that opportunity got shorter
the lines between the lines that never fit

i'm still alive - i'm forty-five - that doesn't really matter
the years that happened in between don't really seem to mind it
feels like every time i try to stick my head out of the gutter
the lines that keep connecting us are ever more explicit
and every time my fishing line retracts a little shorter
my heart, my soul is telling me to let it

that lonely deck of cards that's being led towards the slaughter
that slow persistent hopefulness that wants to take me with it
with every waking moment i can't wait to get to know her
and shower it with words so even i could never miss it
the distance to that end looks like it's finally getting shorter
and something in me tells me not to quit

they say fortune favours the brave
but right now it favours the dave