Now it's years since your body went flat
And even memories of that are all think and dull, all gravel and glass.
But who needs them now -- displaced they're easily more safe
The worst of it now: I can't remember your face.

Return. 

For a while, with the vertigo cured, we were alive -- we were pure.
The void took the shape of all that you were, but years take their toll
And things get bent into shape...
Antiseptic and tired, I can't remember your face. 

Return. 

You were supposed to grow old.
Reckless, unfrightened, and old, 
you were supposed to grow old. 

Return. You were supposed to return.