My Yellowing Sky

[Verse 1]
I live between 'Sarajevo' and 'Settle' in the spine of a '78 Webster's.
August '89, my ink is getting tired, my paper's going soft at the corners.
He's got his arm around her shoulder by the fountain.
They don't know about the draft from the window that won't seal shut yet.

[Chorus]
I'm the foundation before the fracture.
I'm the first floor plan before the fire.
Just a fixed stare and a little square of sun.
The last good weather before the wire.

[Verse 2]
Sometimes a thumb will find me in the dark, pull me into the kitchen light.
The air smells like cedar and the grounds in her dzezva.
She holds me to the linoleum, a ghost to a ghost.
'Don't you look so young,' she whispered once, and smudged my yellowing sky.

[Chorus]
I'm the foundation before the fracture.
I'm the first floor plan before the fire.
Just a fixed stare and a little square of sun.
The last good weather before the wire.

[Bridge]
And the blue of her dress is a slow leak of color.
The brick of the fountain is fading to grey.
My one job was holding this minute for them.
And I feel it giving way.

[Outro]
The book closes. It's heavy.
I'm back between the words again.