I'm tired of being reasonable I'm tired of waiting for Some sign of the old land To wash up on the shore In the city's afternoon Behind the buildings, a white moon Watched us look for a room that night But we could not find a room The key to you ever since we met Is you don't lock any doors I'm climbing up those stony steps My shoes on the wet wood floor Now she's in the shower, I hear the pipes creaking Groaning like the traffic outside She comes down and sits next to me My mouth was open wide Your picture is a portrait The portrait's never done I don't know how it got here But I know where it's from