He saw her through the smoke in the room
Six-foot-two with purple hair
Sunglasses resting on the end of her nose
She liked to believe that she knew how to stare

Said she was good at predicting the past
The tone of her voice gave him a scare
But he could never resist a reflection
He scraped the floor as he pulled up a chair

So she took his hand over the table
And traced a line across his palm
"You're shaking, my dear, but there's nothing to fear
Please try to remain calm"

Leaving as the day gives way to the next
Searching all the while for clues of context
Early-morning-wisdom does not amount to much
Take a photograph of now for time to retouch

She saw him through the smoke in the room
Standing in the door in his favorite shirt
(A lime-green print he bought by the shore
Still bright, but smeared with time and dirt)

He carried the air of an easy target
None-too-bright and not-so-alert
It was exactly what he wanted
He was never one to have his feelings hurt

Bad decisions come and go
Will you let them show?


From:  Central Chilling Station No. 4
Released:  June, 1997
"TIME TO RETOUCH"