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Artiste:
John Hiatt
Titre:
Our Time
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I traced your arms as you laid spread out on the Sunday paper Looked like the crime scene of an angel ghost I heard the gate clatter to on the elevator I wrapped myself up in it like a cold beef roast Fell asleep, was cooked medium and placed on a dining room table in Brooklyn Before an older couple surrounded by family and friends so wonderful and kind I flashed back to you giving dollars to homeless men down in the bowery Not before they convinced you it was for sandwiches and not for wine I just could never convince you baby This was our time This was our time This was our time Now your feeding me fabulous Chinese takeout on the dampened bed sheets Our last supper so you might say I woke up in a cold sweat and realized we'd never cooked one meal together You always said, "Why bother?" with the cuisines of the world laid at our feet here everyday Then I thought of our first date back in Nashville We shared the pupu platter you enjoyed it with such gusto I took it for a sign We would have many happy meals together in a warm dining room somewhere maybe even Brooklyn That was way back then, and I was just another guy with food on his mind But this, baby this was our time This was our time This was our time This was our time What did you have in mind? This was our time