Now its years since your body went flat and even memories of that 
are all think and dull, all gravel and glass. But who needs them 
now -- displaced they're easily more safe -- 
the worst of it now: I can't remember your face. 
  
Return.  
  
For a while, with the vertigo cured, we were alive -- we were pure. 
The void took the shape of all that you were, but years take their toll, 
and things get bent into shape... 
Antiseptic and tired, I can't remember your face.  
  
Return.  
  
You were supposed to grow old. Reckless, unfrightened, and old,  
you were supposed to grow old.  
  
Return. You were supposed to return. 
 
 
[Thanks to  ToasterNFG92@netscape.net  for these lyrics]