A pillow lays on cold cement, a blanket by a broken vent
She's there a while and then she's gone
I'm away for weeks, arrive at night
She hears my steps, turns off the light and runs

No mind at all, more space than I need, it's just me among the weeds
Among the ghosts, among the leaves
We've never met, but she's a girl, romance paper books
The floor is covered in long blonde curls

On afternoons I walk the graves
The rusted cars, the mineshaft caves
See a girl sadly unkempt
A child of neglect

Under moons I pass the tombs
Cross the highways, smell the fumes
See a girl, frighteningly gaunt, somebody didn't want
How do I tell her I don't care if she sleeps downstairs?

I see her on my errand runs
Looking nervous, like a young Mia Farrow
Walk along the gas stops, window browsing pawn shops
Guns, bows and arrows

Up on past the halfway house, past the signs, Eighty South
Buttercup and Carrows
Drinking Wild Irish Rose at the dead end of the road
Sleeping with the sparrows
When evening comes I play guitar
For the planets and the stars
I leave the porch light on
Like I do when I'm gone

Winter, spring, summer, fall
Basement's yours, have a ball
There's always room for you there
Really, baby, I don't care