She says, "I'm a real person, aren't I?"
She points and she waves as I stumble
And collapses into dust

There's frantic waving outside under each street light
Says they're waiting to get picked up
And point up

I'll take my time
Watch the patterns pass down

As I sit and watch
Off the swinging porch of an old twin colonial
Memory forever

As one's mind crawls southbound down the east coast
Flies through the high grass

As you appear and then reappear
And then reappear

I'll take my time
Watch the patterns pass down