Head for Supplies

Across the city there’s a golden chill

A rare holding still

As if somebody’s gonna sing

A dip in tempo for the castanet shoes

No blues and twos

As if somebody’s gonna sing

And in the moment hanging on to you

We’re a bundle of clothes and shoes

Whatever we could find

You are the reason for this missing beat

On the streets that I love

And in me

Now I’m here at your side

We try to rhyme our stride

And head for supplies

Way down inside me was a pilot light

That good friends tended and fed with tiny kindnesses

And there was comfort in a stranger’s bed from time to time

It has to be said it just reminded us

The brief ignition of a hopeful flame but there and then gone

It wasn’t the same and then a rostrum struck

The way you read me like you wrote this book

And chapters along it’s still in your eyes

Now I’m here at your side

As though

The street

That meets our feet might know

We try to rhyme our stride

And head for supplies

Across the city there’s a golden chill

A rare holding still

As if somebody’s gonna sing

A dip in tempo for the castanet shoes

No blues and twos

As if somebody’s gonna sing

We glide

We spin

You end and I begin

I made this mess for you

To sift through for all time

You’re glowing from within

Beneath an autumn sky

We find our rhyming stride

And head for supplies