11-15-01 - 11:37 p.m.

There is no pain�you are receding
a distant ship's smoke on the horizon
you are only coming through in waves
your lips move
but I cannot hear what you're saying
When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse
out of the corner of my eye
I turned to look�
but it was gone
I cannot put my finger on it now

The child is grown.
The dream is gone.
And I have become
comfortably numb.

Justin took away my Pink Floyd CDs. So I went out and bought Echoes.

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