From the recording You Send Me a Photograph
Though the hour is late and we've said our goodbyes, what I heard is not what I see in your eyes, slowly blinking like a neon sign, but half the letters are out. All your guests are gone and with them your disguise. What I saw is not what I see in your eyes. Tell me am I reading this right, were you expecting me to stay? No, I want to drive through towns I never knew existed; I want to hear what's playing on the local radio; I want to ride in beautiful boredom, let any old thought just fly, see laundry hanging on the line through the cracks of a wooden fence … I want to go. Baby, pack your bags, tomorrow's sun will rise, and we'll go searching for what I see in your eyes, driving those highways till the money's gone, then we'll stay there for a while.