Thursday, March 13, 2014

the stairs of the white house

as we drive we pass a white house
I don't know who lives inside
what they do or what their names are
what the walls might have to hide

but my hand is out the window
it rides the wind along my view
a light shines on the narrow stairs
I don't know why I think of you

I think because it's perfect
I think because it's night
I almost see your freckles
but I know that can't be right

I know that you can't live there
you simply never will
its halls won't ever have your voice
I somehow feel you still

I wonder what you'd look like
I wonder what you'd say
it's the type of country house
I always saw you in one day

your children would be loving
I know they'd have your eyes
generations sleep in coffins
when someone like you dies

this is where I see you
this is the life I'll save
you'll grow old in this white house
and we won't need your grave

so leave the light on for me
don't forget to sweep the stairs
we can laugh for hours
about our worries and our cares

I see you now, it's morning
you hair still tangled in the sun
I'm silent, drinking coffee
but your smile helps me run

miles fly beneath us
pain is nothing next to you
the outline of your nose, your lips
it's all a dream, it's true

quiet things remembered
the joy of things so small
weekdays passing aimlessly
the comfort when you call

when I leave it's simple
no goodbye, just see you soon
eternity is still a distant thought
from your front room

the room where I should meet you
the room where we should stay
the room that doesn't have
an empty seat for you that day

the white house, as we pass it
only lives in my rear view
but now I have an image
that I think is straight from you

on the stairs of the white house
a girl, she sits and waits
she watches all the pieces of her heart
approach the gates

when my piece is ready
when you get to call my name
know that every day without you
hasn't ever been the same

with trembling I will climb them
up the stairs, I'll see your face
the only reason I can find
He made the human race

if there are really many rooms
and I can earn a key
this suffering is nothing
if forever you're with me

flesh and blood, I feel you
your cheeks so rosy red
on the stairs of our white house 
no one here is dead