You say the worst is over now

all you have to do is blink

the drying time is 5 hours

and you're crying over the kitchen sink

and you're trying to make sure

all the brushes are thoroughly washed

from that room you had to repaint

cause all your memories of it are lost



and they're flying kites in Atlanta now

in a park as trains go by

and the train is a daily serpent

people swallow

just trying to get on with their lives



and in that room

is industrial grade carpet

tormented by teething furniture feet

and the bedframe is hiding a torrid little secret

that coos at you in your terminable sleep

you hate to be the doom of your own party

so you're going to get out of bed

the stalemate is leaning on your doorbell

delivering all the things that were said



they're flying kites in Seattle now

in a park as you walk bay

and you tap them on the shoulder and ask

"how do they fly?"



you're flying a kite in San Francisco now,

in a park as he walks by.