Vagabondish Feats

I suppress so much of what I own these days, being somewhat a bit of a dreamer myself
A beautiful girl did a beautiful, spiritual thing to me yesterday, making the only part of me that really matters beautiful again
I wanted to write her a song, to include her in an album dedicated to my sister but settled for writing her a poem instead; it''s what I do best
Some things go without being said, though, but I don't think she knows exactly what this means to me and I wish she could; I wish she would
But I've got to be mature about this now; my intellect just won't let spontaneity flow

Distance is merely an obstacle; just one I never care to address
I'm just a goofy, silly, pathetic boy with a romantic frame of mind
A timid love-letter was wrote and sent out really not too long ago by the unified hand of some friends of mine, beautiful passers-by that I met and made here
By the time it went, though, everybody seemed to know, but the questions hadn't come yet

And, really, that's the difference...
They all helped me, giving me things, but they gave me stuff that I gave away the next instant
She, though, she took something away from me and now that's mine to keep, so I'll always carry her, trampling her, with me
Contextual identity may be needed here, but I don't really feel like giving it

But it's getting harder and harder to breathe these days
I often find myself choking, even suffocating, on my own saliva or things I have stuck down my throat
I see her sometimes, working on the corners of Skid Row, as I'm working myself, cleaning tables, making conversation
And we don't even really have to talk most of the time; she just smiles at me and I understand

She told me to have us go to Venice Beach once...
So we did that; the next day we stopped off at Santa Monica Pier and strolled over to Venice from there
And now she's about to go off to someplace else and stay with a gay man, as I overheard my friend, Sam, say somewhere towards the end of the best fucking day of my life
No, this isn't about the place I'm in; it's about the people I'm with and she'll be in Mexico for a bit while I'll eventually be in California patiently praying for her return
These are pensive matters, as my friend, Alan, once pointed out to me

And I'm just at a place now, figuring stuff out, having fun as the smoke drips off the cigarettes we share into the night sky
Her immortality is alive in me - it walks bare with me in the garden
I understand now the things I don't understand, but I still don't fully grasp them; she wasn't there for that one
But you'll never believe what I've found - I don't even know if I do -: a place so close, but still so far away for the time being
Now I have a child, a baby boy, to live for and my reasons to die have dissipated, so that's why I cry; the callouses on my heart were sanded off
With all the confusion that's settled in - nah, man, I don't want to talk about it; let's just let it go

But yeah, it's best to fall in love more towards the end of things
So you can just drift away to another time, another place, and not disrupt or hurt anyone, anything