saw you in a place where I could know you
when I've been a fool, been part of a crowd
and then I saw you
and I knew by your smile, it's you.

lost in those memories, the little short ones we have,
when staring into spaces we imagined,
and then I saw you
and I knew by your tears, it's you.

I saw your face and gave you the hand.
what were you thinking, what were you feeling then,
and then I heard you
and I knew by your voice, it's you.

those little insignificant moments,
consisting of a bench and a sweater; my hand and a miserable song
though the revision means nothing to you now
they are but catching triggers of my memories and

should become parts of a song

Try singing this song, a song that is not a song.
Try listening to a song, and give your own melody.

see you again and again in the mornings,
when the grey letters create lines of history
and then I read them
and I know by your words, it's you.

time alone reminds me of the transience,
when a prolonged anticipation is not possible,
and always I dream of you,
and I know by the frequency, it's you.

but what matters now, what bothers me now,
when the real blues are inconsistently persistent?
and then I think of You
and I know by the silence, it's You and you.

those now significant moments,
consisting of a bench and a sweater; my hand and a miserable song
though the revision means nothing to you now
they are but catching notes of my thoughts and

should become parts of a song

Try singing this song, a song that is not a song.
Try listening to this song, and give your own melody.

and when you are happy,
I know by the happiness, it's You.