I can't hear you.

I talk to them, asking for their forgiveness almost laughingly, because it's unthinkable that they don't forgive me. Then comes the long night. . . . (I dreamed about this, didn't I?) (Or am I just now dreaming it?) The long night, and I've only just woken up. Disaster struck a week ago, waiting for nothing. Nothing never comes.

Long night, long night.

I think you cried for me then but I'm not sure.

I try to get it out of my head because they'll forgive me. Everything will go back, of course, of course. In the morning I know you cried for me. I told you not to cry too much, it would make me wet. I told myself that the picture inside would cry for me if they didn't forgive me. The picture inside would know to cry for me once I cried to it. But that won't happen, because they will forgive me.

I take my flight in the light drizzle of your tears. I talk out loud to you but all you do is cry. After they forgive me, I'll celebrate. I'll celebrate. I won't cry to a picture, I'll celebrate.

I tell them my story. No one forgives me. I can't celebrate. This can't happen, I'm dreaming. I'm still dreaming. You cried then. You cried harder when I took my flight home. Slowly, slowly. Your tears wet me and I don't feel good at all.

When I get home I can't even look at the picture. I try to tell it to cry for me but it knows. I tell my story to the television set. I know it's not a dream and you're still crying. I want to leave and with you crying like that I can't. Please stop crying.

I feel like a goddess because you listen to me. Waiting for the nothing that never comes, you cry. You don't touch me, you cry. Just to talk to anyone you have to cry first. So I tried crying with you. And I said, "Wait for me, baby. Wait for me." And you dried your tears and made me happy.

I can be home waiting for the nothing that never comes, and now I want you to cry. You can cry all you want, baby, and you make me cry. But I love the way you cry with me.

His voice makes me cry, his voice makes me cry, his voice makes me cry. Sometimes at the same time.

And I want to cry now. You cry when I scream. But now I want to cry. Just to cry. But the nothing never came, and something else did.

I smiled, and you cried. But now you're not crying. And I cried for you.

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