i m tired of being reasonable i m tired of waiting for some sign of the old land to wash up on the shore in the city s afternoon behind the buildings a white moon watched us look for a room that night but we could not find a room the key to you ever since we met is you don t lock any doors i m climbing up those stony steps my shoes on the wet wood floor now she s in the shower i hear the pipes creaking groaning like the traffic outside she comes down and sits next to me my mouth was open wide your picture is a portrait the portrait s never done i don t know how it got here but i know where it s from