David Arn Andrea
I was thrown when a saxophone died on Thompson Street
Sexy radio voice said this day would be hard to beat
Then in a traffic jam my mind got stuck in self-review
You're planted inside of me,
Can't take down the tree that grows more thoughts of you
Andrea, what were we thinking of?
This may not come as news
You pushed me off my shoes
I misread the scale that showed the weight of your shove
Anticipation of your touch was sweet and slow as a drug
Lifting me from the dark crowded hole no one claims they dug
I can still count those back steps leading to your place
Who takes my space on your pillow case?
Whose memory sees you like a doll always with a smiling face?
Andrea, if you only knew
My love is a morning sun rising for you,
High above the silver names the street gangs drew
Won't open up one more day wrapped in SoHo sorrow
Don't want to delay turning shadows toward the light
It's such a struggle to see past tomorrow
When you're always there dancing in my line of sight
In the theater of my dreams I see a curtain rise
Your beauty steals the easy applause until the sad clown cries
In the spotlight your diamond dress appears sapphire blue
Illusion fitting you complete
As I rise from my expensive seat to cheer for more of you
Andrea, that's what I'm dreaming of
Nights when you treated to a backstage pass
Don't leave me stranded in line for love
