You're my desert, the line between the sky and where the world gets solid and willing to divide I corner you in the bedroom I find you at the sink I picture you in the morning I reach for you in my sleep I was in love, with the sky it's like a drug I was in love, with my window at twilight In the back room of my memory Lives a small boy stocking shelves of numbered periodicals, and the dreams I don't write down got a typist on the bottle, my stock boy only twelve and dozing in the showroom my many other selves I was love with the sound of it all I was in love, with not knowing, anything at all I was in love, with the sky it's quite a high I was in love, with my window at twilight I was love with the sound of it all I was in love, with not knowing, anything at all