There is something I have to say
Cause I'm leaving some time today
And I can't tell when I'll be back
It's easy to imagine me here
The phone keeps a voice so near
But that kind of exchange hides the fact
That I'm going so very far
And today I know who you are
But tomorrow the space will make us other souls

Can we find communion again?
In the bedroom or just as friends?
Is there difference between in lives like ours?

I feel deserving of love
Can it be something I dispose of?
Or put away in a box under the bed?
Will it rot there and spoil my days?
Or recharge them in other ways?
Will it lift me to heights when I am dead?
What if I cannot live for you?
But for others still as I do?
How then will you absorb this word: goodbye?