In comes you, not the same person I knew.
Looking roughly the same, but something hungry getting restless in your brain.
So there I go.
Not the same person you used to know, peaking through a fish eye lens at you.

And the cornet blows where the oleander grows.
And us too, not the same people that our old friends knew.

And so down the street you head in the high summer heat.
White long sleeve oxford pushed up to just before your elbows.
Black pumps and a medium length black skirt, eating a path through the dark, d___ed birth.
I hope they've got plenty of money where you're going.

And the cornet blows, where the oleander grows.
And us too not the same people that our old friends knew.

See also:
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