| PAYPHONE I saw the degree reach sixty three Right after I met your eyes Rolling down the boulavard I heard them above Eve 6 summer breeze and my sun kissed face I pulled my hair aside, looking downward as you crouched beside the mailbox Lips murmering in the phone How then I wondered what voice awaited yours And how I craved to shift to park Chase the street lights and hide amongst your shadow Steal your moment And the dialtone |