Summertime and the wind is blowing outside
In lower Chelsea and I don't know
What I'm doing in this city
The sun is always in my eyes

Propped up inelegantly against the far wall of his bedroom, just beneath the window seat, bathing in the buttery block of sunshine painted across the floor. Long legs stretched out before him, a comfortable sprawl, but there's something unutterably graceful about the way he cradles the guitar. Resting gently on the curve of one thigh, long fingers wrapped around the neck, the hard steel strings biting lovingly into his callused fingertips. Never demanding; always coaxing music from the instrument. Voice and melody flow together in a low, sobbing sigh.

It crashes through the windows, and I'm sleeping on the couch
When I came to visit you, that's when I knew
That I could never have you, I knew that before you did
Still I'm the one who's stupid

Voice breaking slightly on the last word, hands faltering as strummed the perfect chords. The bowed brow head slipped a little lower, as if he could hide his own grief from himself, but the illusion was shattered with every word.

And there's this burning
Like there's always been
I've never been so alone, and I've
Never been so alive

You watch him caress every chord, you watch him half-sob the words, and you've never felt more helpless in your life. If only he would open up you'd gladly take his pain away, but he keeps his misery too close. Too close for you to melt with warm smiles and gentle words, too close to find relief in your clumsy embrace. Like his music, he guards his pain jealously.

Visions of you on a motorcycle drive-by
The cigarette ash flies in your eyes and you don't mind
You smile, and say the world, it doesn't fit with you
I don't believe you, you're so serene

You watch him choke out the lyrics, eyes closed tightly against tears, alone in his unhappiness; and you think that in that moment you'd suffer anything to take his pain away. You'd live the rest of your life in misery so we would never know a day of suffering. And in a way, haven't you? You've sacrificed your happiness for his, and you've never regretted it.

Careening through the universe, your axis on a tilt
You're guiltless and free, I hope you take a piece of me with you

He never would tell you who he wrote those words for; never told anyone, as far as you know. Whoever she was, she didn't deserve it. She was just one of many in a long line of brainless, tasteless, worthless women. It killed you, the way he cried over each of them when they finally left him, the way he was crying over one now. Just the latest woman to drift in and out of his life, just another fling that ended with him in tears. And you don't understand it at all.

And there are things I would like to do
That you don't believe in
I would like to build something
You know you'll never see it happen

He was the one who had driven her away. Screaming fights, stinging words; she'd thrown out half of his records and he'd set fire to her favorite dress. Everyone was relieved when he finally broke it off; and yet here he was, a week later, pouring his broken heart out to an old guitar and an empty room. Of course, he doesn't know you're watching him.

And there's this burning
There is this burning, yeah yeah yeah!

He doesn't know how often you watch him, how much of the time you're by his side. Driving him home when he's too drunk to walk, too fucked up to remember his own name. Making up stories for reporters to explain the appearance of a shiny new bruise. Soothing tensions on both sides when he's looking for a fight and Kevin's more than happy to break a few fingers for the cause. He invites conflict, he relishes it, and you're the one left picking up the pieces in his wake.

Where's the soul, I want to know
New York City's evil, the surface is everything
But I could never do that
Someone would see through that

And yet, it's never occurred to you to stop. Refuse to put up with his bull shit, refuse to clean up the mess he makes. He needs you, even though neither of you has ever acknowledged it. He's too much of a...man, to exist on his own. He needs you to take care of him, make sure he eats, pays the bills, doesn't do too many drugs. And you need to do it. You need him to need you.

And this is the last time we'll be friends again
I'll get over you, you'll wonder who I am
And there's this burning, just like there's always been
I've never been so alone, and I've never been so alive

Maybe that's why you're still here, long after the others have gone. Not because he needs you, though he does; but because you need him. Just thinking about it makes your head hurt. In the end, it doesn't matter why you stay; it only matters that you're here. Whether he wants it or not, whether you want it or not, you're here, by his side, and you always will be. Because you don't know anything else.

I go home to the coast, it starts to rain
I paddle out on the water, alone
Taste the salt and taste the pain
I'm not thinking of you again

He's crying now, resigning himself to the tears that tumble down his cheeks. He's the most beautiful man you've ever seen when he cries. His leaf green eyes shine blackly beneath the sheen of tears and his pale skin glows warmly with life. He looks like a fallen angel, dressed in black leather with guitar in hand, and a voice that would make Heaven weep.

Summer dies and swells rise
The sun goes down in my eyes
See this rolling wave, darkly coming
To take me home

His voice trails off as he strums the final chords, drawing out each note until it fades into a shuddering sigh. His body's shaking with the force of his sobs, and you want nothing more than to go to him and take him in your arms; but you know better than that. So you stand in the doorway, gazing helplessly on, and wait. You're not even sure what you're waiting for. A word? A look? A sign from god? No. You're waiting because that's what you do. You wait.

And I've never been so alone
And I've never been so alive

Forever.