Commodore

Over the deep Manhattan squall
The din of summer going long
It said I was here, but it didn’t feel I’d gone
Open the heavens, send me home

The more that I said it the less I regret it
I swore I heard you murmur something
In four or five days we’ll be back there again and
If I can’t live it, I don’t deserve to go

They said we killed the Commodore
But all I heard was highway roar
Peeling the paint from swathes of the hotel walls
I missed the bleak midwinter cold

The more that I said it the less I regret it
I swore I heard you murmur something
In four or five days we’ll be back there again and
If I can’t live it, I don’t deserve to
Occupy time in the myriad lives that
I don’t really feel that I can
Quantify, I could die multiple times, but
I’ll never truly know anyone