she was cold lying on his bedroom floor
the autumn window open, the air marching to frozen
but other than her skin she was warm
'cause the boy that lay beside her his light was burning golden

he is happiest when things are stable and unchanged
most content with calm and small
whereas she is a circus of unusual and strange
and even if she wants to can't hold on to anything at all

along those lines of thinking his ship was sinking
after a five year sail
all the while she was starting and stopping
box car hopping to no avail

and it seems her sad story could be over on this page
if she takes this writer for a lover, her story will change
so she puts the pen in his hand, leans in to him, says
"write me a kiss, then write me a kiss again"

the path for him and the path for her
up to this moment builds the overture for a symphony
that they're composing on the cold floor
the sounds of surprise and delight and falling fill the city

for a girl so lost and saddened
how fast it happened that she gained
a sense of feeling worthy
of such beauty as he contains

and it seems her sad story could be over on this page
if she takes this painter for a lover then her story will change
so she puts the brush in his hand, leans in to him, says
"paint me a kiss, paint me a kiss again and again and again"

she was cold lying on his bedroom floor
the autumn window open, the air marching to frozen
but other than her skin she was warm
'cause the boy that lay beside her his light was burning golden