A catalogue of ill gotten forgoteries Knocking at your door at nine Tumbling down like sand castles Your eiderdown Slipping off your skin and mine But something strikes At my window one night I awake imagining you Standing out on the beach With a pocket torch and a lock of hair And not knowing what to do There are plenty of boys in the sea But none of them love you like me We'll never argue, we'll never sigh If I never see you We can't say goodbye The streets all muscle in with hunger For the nights I should've slept with you You didn't answer the phone I drove across town through dusk Cathedrals, museum and school But by the time I arrived Your room looked like you'd gone away And were sure never to return A pile of magazines My letters under coffee cups Unanswered and unconcerned