The pure and simple truth is rarely pure and never simple.
Oscar Wilde
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We Looked Like Giants
God bless the daylight, the sugary smell of springtime
Remembering when you were mine in a still suburban town
When every Thursday, I'd brave those mountain passes
And you'd skip your early classes and we'd learn how our bodies worked
God damn the black night, with all its foul temptations
I've become what I always hated when I was with you then
We looked like giants in the back of my grey subcompact
Fumbling to make contact as the others slept inside
And together there in a shroud of frost, the mountain air
Began to pass through every pane of weathered glass
And I held you closer than anyone would ever get
Remember the J.A.M.C. and reading aloud from magazines
I don't know about you but I swear on my name they could smell it on me
But I've never been to good with secrets, oh
Oh together there in a shroud of frost, the mountain air
Began to pass through every pane of weathered glass
And I held you closer