The Old Twin

Some people say there's no reason The simple ways of the season When the traffic lights hit suburban blight Focus through the grey Save the words I believe them Hear it ringing hold it up to the light Dreaming spinning fold into the white Thrown into the shade Feel it spinning slow into the night The ghosts are out to play She returns with a new friend Matinée at the old Twin And the moon it fights with the subway lights Hurry through the fray Fold the page when you see him Hear them ringing hold it up to the light Thrown into the shade Feel it spinning slow into the white Bells begin to play Dreaming spinning colder at this height Knowing you won't stay