it's like a makerover when the filming's

over and she doesn't know how to fix it

so that it'll stay and she can't figure

out how to tease out her hair that way

herself. and when she wakes up all the

make-up has rubbed away and she

doesn't know how to find ger face. it

was only for one single day that you

looked so beautiful, baby. now your

cheekes have gone pale, and you roots

dark gray. and though they nod as they

notice you're nice, baby, nobody's

noticing twice. dim thelights as your

memory of paradise fades. i'm like an

architect who cashed his check, but he

doesn't let on that it's the last one he'll

get. though he knoew thefunds has

run dry, he wants to have fun for one

final night staring out at a skyline that

he'll never change. they're saying

"though we like all things that you've

made notice no one remembers your

name as you float though time feel

you powers decline day by day.

you're like a convert who goes back to

work when he can't retrieve how the

clarity actually felt. when his co-

workers ask hime the words won't come

out. and in three weeks his new leaf

has rubbed away and it feels just like an

average day; facing walls talking into

the phone, sitting dumbly in curch all

alone picking back up the magazines

he'd thrown away. well convert, that

you got wispered into you ear you

forgot once that god disappered and

that life-changing day, you just felt it

fade, but you know, it's got to fade

you know it's got to fade" and falling

down on the couch he says, "it's

perfectly that way"