The horizon is the end
Passing trains at platforms,
Visions of the future or this
Stranger who came into the blur solid -
Who I didnít even see
But you saw me.
And you walked right past
The station Ė this world
Was here before you ever
Knew that I was never
To stand in the crowd.
The platform where life begins;
Adverts and tickets and tickings.
Loud winds that sound like hurricanes
But itís only the train.
Not beautiful, nor different:
Like the girl on the underground you didnít even know -
Or quite amazing to you
But the stars are sparking out.
In the tunnel, in the blackness,
The girl, the girl, the girl.
The missing lyric to the success
Of your song and the last,
Last thing that ever meant anything
Fluttering butterfly eyes, philosophical discussions -
That never reach the meaning of life.
Dry smells and creaking sounds;
Itís funny how no one ever speaks on the underground.
Voices and embraces
And love and love and love
On the weird mirrors on the train -
Makes it worse.
Weíre all too honest
And all too alone.
In the chain, on the train
Of people weíve chosen
To envisage in visions of our future.
And you edge away nearer to the
And you hold the guitar up to your chest;
Musician, philosopher, stranger.
And then you faze me out of your memory
Because you didnít even see me -
But I saw you.
Running and running;
Caught in the symmetry of the subway
And in my dreams, there are guns symbolizing peace
And there are mornings that are plain, and optimistic people
That just donít see that the horizon is the end.