It just started raining, your grandkids are playing.
We’re waiting, we’ll be eating soon.
The wood stove is burning, my typewriter’s learning.
The only thing missing is you.
I couldn’t say so I sat down to write it instead.
I’m afraid if you stay away I might forget.
You’re still alive in my head.
I’m thinking about buying an old house
and trying to fix it but I could use some help.
A home with a garden, they say it's a bargain,
but I can’t do it myself.
I couldn’t say so I sat down to write it instead.
I’m afraid if you stay away I might forget.
You’re still alive in my head.
When will you arrive?
I’ll get in my car and drive to wherever you are.
Call me on the phone.
It’s taking way too long, way too long.
I couldn’t say so I sat down to write it instead.
I’m afraid if you stay away I might forget,
so I sat down to write it instead.
I’m afraid if you stay away I might forget.
You’re still alive in my head.
I’ve got two of my own and a third will be born in November.
You would be proud of me.
So much has changed since you left, it feels strange.
It’s already 1983.