Under an overpass

The roads are empty
There was scream by a girl
There is a time and a place
and this isn't one of them
I see the streets are empty
Are you coming
Because this is too far from anywhere
you would be
Please tell me you are coming
Of all the nights and days
You've been on my mind
I'd think one of them would conjure
you instinctively
But no.
Are you coming?
Because the streets have more fairway now
And I think it might be safer to go out
I love you by the way
Even if you're not here.

Lets be strangers

I don't have to say anything. I could just be here sitting in your mind, undisturbed. Unrelated to anything. Because the minute I open my mouth, I become something. I become a truth. If I don't say anything at all, I remain a mystery. I the less I say, the better.
If I don't say anything, I will be one less person who will make you mad, make you sad. I will sit inside your head and it will be as though we met on a train, a bus. Something transitory. Something not.
If I say nothing at all, we will be alright. We will just be here and be and be nothing at all. And will be that thing they always ask us to be, a still nothing on a cool breeze, on a sunny day with nothing but a hug between two people.

On not giving up

I was asked during an interview once what type of customer got to me. If there were any particular customer that really got to me. And for some reaon that question really got to me. I mean, I've been asked what colleagues get to me but never what customer.
So I figured it out. It's those customers that let their lives get away from them. And they're nearly gone. Nearly dead. It's those customers that gave up a long time a go, let their lives get away from them.