Some people
remember the first time,
some can't forget the last.
Some just select
what they want to
from the past.
It's a song you danced
to in high school,
it's a moon
you tried to bring down.
On a four in the morning drive
through the streets of town.
Come on, come on,
it's getting late now.
Come on, come on,
take my hand.
Come on, come on,
you just have to whisper.
Come on, come on,
I will understand.
It's a photograph
taken in Paris
at the end of the honeymoon.
In 1948,
late in the month of June.
Your parents smile
for the camera
in sienna shades of light.
Now you're older than they were then
that summer night.
Come on, come on,
it's getting late now.
Come on, come on,
take my hand.
Come on, come on,
you just have to whisper.
Come on, come on,
I will understand.
It's a need you never get used to,
so fierce and so confused.
It's a loss you never
get over the first time
you lose.
Tonight I am thinking of someone,
seventeen years ago.
We rode in his daddy's car
down the River Road.
Come on, come on,
it's getting late now.
Come on, come on,
take my hand.
Come on, come on,
you just have to whisper.
Come on, come on,
I will understand.
Come on, come on,
it's getting late now.
Come on, come on,
take my hand.
Come on, come on,
you just have to whisper.
Come on, come on ...