We sat by ourselves, still looking for company;  there could have been peace, but that eluded me--  all I could think of was what was on your mind.  You tried to be kind,  but I blocked your feelings.  Now, senses still reeling, you sit in your quiet room  and cry.  You tried to make me one,  but I always hide when there's a glimpse of sun.  Running along in sunlight meadows  your eyes were never more than half-closed:  through fluttering lashes, you watched me watching you.  I tried to be true  to the way that you thought I ought to be  but, in spite of all my efforts,  I failed.  I tried to make you see  but your eyes were blind to all but the bad in me.  What do you think I mean  when I say that I need you?  How am I supposed to seem  when we hit another problem and the answers  are all torn from my book?  Our lives are on paths we just can't control;  we can grow closer as we get old....  Can you imagine us as we adjust?  Can you imagine us  getting near eighty;  we live more sedately, still hoping the dream will  come true?  We'll try to be secure....  But I'm of uncertain mind  and how can I be sure?   how can I be sure?   how can I be sure?  -------------------------------------------------------