i don't want to talk about heaven and hell
i don't want to know the truth of what lingers between
i don't want to know who you are when i can't be around anymore
i don't want to taste the moisture of a stranger
i don't want to disolve into your palm
like the pools of sweat caught up to you in january heat.
i don't want to ask you what you're thinking of as you rest your head against the window
and try to see everything but me
as i try to forget everything that is you
even the folds in my hands; all the places you've been
and i know that paradise is lost