Pullman, Washington

Crawl to the window

Whisper to me if it snowed

We'll plot to murder each other

And I'll be your alibi.

Bind me with wire

Tell me your favorite vice

And I'll discuss my childhood

- If you need a sedative.

I like rain,

the innocence in praying,

The faded faintly childhood

smell of plastic

When it's set to burn

Angel dust, the two of us,

Fresh-faced reminders

of lessons that we'll

Never learn.

I see you're sleeping

You always can cry if it helps

My soul is by the telephone

- If you're needing sympathy.

And the rain won't wash away

all that you hold to be true

It remains somehow indifferent

- Regarding the weatherman.