The halo around the streetlight from the fog that's rolling in,
Does nothing to demystify the glistening on your skin.
And a second competing halo from a candle half burned out,
Makes you look almost angelic, not that there was any doubt.
Would it harm us all that much,
Pretend we'd never lost that touch,
And maybe, maybe we'll save ourselves from us.
The jazz radio station might be playing some Coltrane,
But it's hard to hear it clearly, now the fog's been joined by rain.
And I'm trying not to focus on our latest compromise,
Or the ticket on your luggage, 'cause it's not just time that flies.
Would it harm us all that much,
Pretend we'd never lost that touch,
And maybe, maybe we'll save ourselves from us.
"Once more for old time's sake", seems to be our mating call,
As if time is running out now, when it only used to crawl.
Now our future is uncertain, and our history is blurred,
But you've re-defined the present, without uttering a word.
Would it harm us all that much,
Pretend we'd never lost that touch,
And maybe, maybe we'll save ourselves from us.
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