no more notes no more scribbling in little books
no more yesterdays as a thousand prisms creak into existance
hanging all about the air, hanging all around the darkness
almost like the little jewels that adorn my memory of that day
back in grade school when a girl i knew brought me home.
she showed me all the things she thought were pretty and i wrote them down
in my mind and there were beads strung about the room and i think of them now
temeratures are dropping they tell us, the world will never be the same
this isnt grade school anymore, and i wonder if you remember my name
from behind your white coat and fancy pens; the end is near, they say
beakers break and everyones standing now; noones sitting down
its almost like a dream, be it one i never had. the outside sparkles,
strings of crystals form accross the air as mrs noodlot draws the blinds and
the frozen panes shatter inward but im not there
im fourtheenth and you are third, and there you are across the stage.
there are parents clapping and theres your dress. i dont know why ive
never thought of this before; never dwelt on you before. never
be the same, they say. you never were the same and i dont know if ive changed.
but there you are and i join the standing. there you are across the
room. there are people shouting and i see you by that broken glass.
the sun is dimming, the crystals growing, and ive but once seen your eyes before
i see them now, so enthralled. one hand is clasped around the window
and you have the perfect view of the all the little beads, strung about the sky
strung about the heavens on the day we all died. your other hand never leaves my gaze;
youve never left my vision, after all these years, and i see that now for the first time.
my shoes transform above the broken glass, and by the time i reach you
and take your hand the sky has dimmed so that it just
perfectly illuminates my tux and your dress exactly like before.
and without looking at each other you tell me what you think is pretty,
and i never knew.
our atmosphere is crystalizing and it has always reminded you of me, you say
no more notes no more scribbling in little books; i wont forget this time.
our eyes are glowing now but that about it, its so cold and before long
i feel the crystals pierce my veins, but the world is ending, after all,