So, you are the conversation: last seen underneath a veil of unspoken concentration (and you wore it well). She was dressed to kill the killers (it was an ordinary day) - and it takes so little now to thrill her (or so she says). I keep telling myself that change is easy and it's oh, so good but the fate of future generations is changing like the seasons - like I know it should. I should be better at my worst; I should know better than to fear; I was surprised to find you waiting in the open after two years (was it two years?). I keep telling myself that change is easy and it's oh, so good, but the fate of future generations has changed like the seasons like I knew it would.