At Least We Have Right Now-Robin

[Ramona]

(This is a song, by the way. Just letting you know since usually it's all poems in here.)

The sun is setting low upon the belly of the sky
Just like that baggy shirt of yours that makes me want to fly.

We can’t get home again.
We can’t get back to then.

Now there are snowflakes melting in your hair,
Graceful trickles like pale dancers waltzing pair-by-pair.

Eric Johnson’s on the radio, playing Lonely in the Night,
And your Mona Lisa smile’s like a phoenix taking flight.
Darling, seeing you is such a glorious sight;
Your skin glows so serenely in the fading light.

We can’t get home again.
We can’t get back to then.

Sweetheart, can’t resist those Icarus wings,
The tune you sings,
All those little thrilling things.
You dreaded what the morning brings;
The sun, the end of wax-based wings.
Diane lets us live like kings.

So joyous like that fair-haired boy,
‘Cept unlike him, the real McCoy.
Babe, there’s no need to play coy;
We both know it’s your most famous ploy.

We can’t get home again.
We can’t get back to then.

If we can’t get back, we can get ahead;
Forget about the tears and the clothes that we shed.
It was a fine line that you and I tread,
But we’ve fallen off onto our marriage bed.
It does not matter how much we’ve both bled,
There’s nothing you could do that could make me see red.

We can’t get home again.
We can’t get back to then.

We can’t get home again.
We can’t get back to then.

We can’t get back, and there’s no road ahead,
We’re bereft of all of the clothes that we shed.

Bereft of all but the moment right now,
Of all but the oaths you and I will avow.
A frown dares to line your smooth ivory brow,
And I think I know how.

You know beforehand what would happen to you,
A purpling passion that never quite turned blue.

There’s no future for us, Carolyn my dear,
But at least now, we’re both here.

At least now.
At least we have now.
At least we have right now.