I am swimming through the city where we used to reside
The flickering projection of a stuttering bride
Who’s not quite sure she can say the final vow.
I’m on the 47 bus, transfer in hand,
Watching hourglass avenues filling with sand.
We push through the narrows, I know my stop is coming up now.
Can I lift this veil that I’ve been wearing
and the veil beneath the veil beneath the veil?
God will hide her pretty face until some daring
asker asks: Are you there?
The future’s blank and shiny like an animal eye
I’m ready to get married like I’m ready to die
It’s comforting to say it, but it’s not true.
Tomorrow is in focus but the present is blurred.
The bus has crashed, my body’s pinned down under a word.
My tongue is tied forever, for always, tied to you.
Can I lift this veil that I’ve been wearing
and the veil beneath the veil beneath the veil?
God is silent, all the witnesses are staring:
What’s the deal? Are we there?