Alleyways of Our Hearts

I keep stopping

To make sure that these sticks on the ground are not pencils

For me to write my life with

Fronts of buildings we never see the backs of

Did you know the corner store is perched on a hill

Balconies breaking and afraid

Others full of lights and glowing eyes

Often we never see, it's an invasion of privacy

They'll be staring back at me

Wondering for five seconds why this child runs

Like they are constantly leaving something behind

I used to see people with bent backs lurking

Beneath stations and around community gardens

Saying that won't be me, that won't be me

Now I look in the mirror and see two people, not one

Both completely incapable of organizing their life

Thinking of wonderful spiralling chaoses concealed

Behind boards like caged animals in zoos fleeting

Why do I think

People will follow the threads back

To find all the places I went the night I chose to disappear

When crows flying eastward follow dotted lines and

Arrows in the sky and we are too blinded by

Patterns and structures and streets I am now sitting in

Saying goodbye to a scarlet sun

My roots are sporadic, my mind is singing

This girl lays the chords down while I'm going off

Sprinting into alleyways

In Japan, most streets do not have names

You simply navigate

In Japan, most streets do not have names

You simply navigate

In Japan, most streets do not have names

You simply navigate

In Japan, most streets do not have names

At last, I reach the garden where I first saw your face

There are tennis players in the dusk and I see your dog

I think, a silhouette escorting them

"Why do I recognize that dog?" I say to the silhouette

As they turn the corner and return

To whatever wonderful spiralling chaos

They are to be welcomed by, and

I am a humming body in space again

I used to see people lurking beneath stations and gardens

Searching for nothing, and saying that

Won't be me, saying that won't be me

Now it is a mirror of today

But would I have it any other way?

The sticks on the ground are pencils

Ready to be picked up

To live in my pocket

Arrange the world to capture your smiling face

For every outside, there are a million insides

For every outside, there are a million insides

For every outside

And one day your house will be demolished and those

Insides are released into wing

Captured by the birds

Headed westward

Forever

How many times will I come to this garden

Before it becomes just a garden