Lithograph

I'm looking out through the holes in a sweater
That she knit in the spring
The moths are feeding on the thread
And the cold is getting in

I tried to draw a picture of a pleasant memory
But every time I thought I missed her
The lead would intervene

I asked the man with charcoal eyes
Why my image wouldn't bleed
He said the lines are an illusion
That we wander in-between

When I've got it figured out
That’s when I know I'm lost
When I've got you figured out
That’s when I know I'm lost

Seems to me, I’ll always know
Unsaid words, nostalgic poems
The nakedness of everything is menacing
When I find myself alone

I found a frozen lake, cut a hole into the ice
I found the frustrated figures of men and mice
Their solitary footsteps and machines left to rust
I watched them fall to weary knees, and mingle with the dust

I met the gaze of a man, his blue eyes held the past
That solemn look told me that nothing good is ever going to last