My heart was like a mail box.
Waiting for one piece of mail in particular.
A special letter hand delivered.
The promise of sealed flap, carefully stamped addressed perfectly.
Scented in heavy anticipation.
There I stood in different variation of weather.
Going from hot to cold, the thought alone keeping me warm, closed in.
Suppressing everything that I held in.
The flutter of ads, bills, and different envelopes addressed to other P.O boxes helped build this anticipation.
Waiting for the moment I could open my mouth and accept you for everything you are.
Pouring your heart out in full stationary fashion.
Without hands to satisfy such anticipation.
To open such a flap and grant myself the gift of you kind of puts us in awkward disposition.
But the urgency of it all is as clear as day

The man who lives in a mailbox
Sings his song alone
The rent he says is reasonable
And he likes the tone.

He sings:
I possess but what I have
That time does not remove.
All the castles all the kings
Are never here alone.
Brave parades and cheerful tunes
Do not the truth disprove.
We are each a single soul
And never here alone.
Never here alone.

His song is sung to passersby
Always much surprised
To pass a mailbox, hear a song
Coming from inside.

He sings:
I possess but what I have
That time does not remove.
All the castles all the kings
Are never here alone.
Brave parades and cheerful tunes
Do not the truth disprove.
We are each a single soul
And never here alone.
Never here alone.

Now, some protest, they say he’s mad
They tell him he is wrong
And some ignore his choice of home
And listen to his song.

He sings:
I possess but what I have
That time does not remove.
All the castles all the kings
Are never here alone.
Brave parades and cheerful tunes
Do not the truth disprove.
We are each a single soul
And never here alone.
Never here alone.