Aaron West And The Roaring Twenties - Green Like the G Train Green Like Sea Foam
текст песни

He invited me in; said his name was Jesse, and to take a look around. I found my coat at the bottom of the closet, dug it out. The only thing that she left, there in the middle of the room, was the couch. She’d always hated the pattern or the texture. I can't remember it now. I relived those nights there breaking down. I guess I’ll see myself out.

You kept me waiting like the G Train. I held the door open for hours. I had to walk away. I rode the A line out to Rockaway. I’m always drawn to the water.

Walked the streets to the shore. Passed by the murals fading off of the walls. Still licking the fresh wounds from a hurricane in the fall. And I watch them rebuild. I hummed a Ramone’s song out of key. Staring off at the skyline over shorebreak and remembering that this same ocean almost killed me. South Carolina, seafoam green.

You kept me waiting like the G Train. I held the door open for hours. I had to walk away. I took the A line out to Rockaway. I’m always drawn to the water. I felt the weight.

On a calendar long enough all my grief starts to decay. On a calendar long enough it grows more useless by the day, and I read that on a calendar long enough, New York will be returned to the sea. When the water gets high enough, it’ll take back everything. So the subway and the G Train, our apartment, all our memories come to rest there under water, all the things that I thought meant the most to me. I try to picture it-- just the top of the skyline at low tide, piercing the surface as the ships try to navigate their lanes, and there alone and triumphant on the crest of a wave is the couch you gave away.