Won't you pick me up? So small, silver sleeping in your pocket for hours at a time until, with a shudder and a cry, won't you pick me up? I'm waiting, I'm waiting, won't you pick me up? Press your lips to my lips and speak(ers). I won't count the minutes; we have a thousand hours. Just lift me to your cheek. Just lift me to your cheek!
The tin music of each number sings a song fingers remember, like a lullaby of summer backed by crickets in their nests. Our love is on a battery, we burn so hot, we burn so late. I swear that scar above your nose was LCD and plexi-given. You held me too closely, but I asked you to do it.
Won't you pick me up, even when you see it's me? Even when my name comes through a thousand miles of air and rock and mid-west earth, won't you pick me up and speak? Put your tongue into your teeth and form the words we carved on trees in the mountains of California where the water burnt our feet. With cold and icy waves, we cooled our faces, smiling through the clean, wet air. Won't you pick me up... I know you're there.