Hums of conversation   Lip goes   One leg crossed   Driven back into this corner      Is it the same when I leave   As when I come   On a higher or lower frequency   It means nothing to me      Watch me turn the volume down   It's always cold before the last day   Still guarding space   Snow piled up by the road to my house      The one time I tried   It was a fine view   Through and across   Then there was restlessness   And in that movement   I dressed in the light from outside