Rooms

I remember roots that had their parts

And the steady slowing down of the heart

The room in Paris, the room at Geneva

The room tethered with the seething sound

And that speechless, maddening sound of the tide

Rooms were for good or for ill, things died

But there is one thing where we tonight dared

Though in the morning we seemed to wake

And adjust as well, seem to sleep again

As we shall, somewhere in the other quieter, dustier lift

Out there in the sun, in the rain

Out there in the sun, in the rain

Out there in the sun, out there in the sun

Out there in the sun, in the rain