I miss you and the memory machine
And the factory where we make something of dreams
And we wandered around your streets
With sewn on button eyes our ears [bad word] our memories

The blind loving the blind
And our voices [bad word] our fingers
And you touched me with your song
And touched me all night long

I miss you
I miss you

And the memory machine making whiskey from the things
We no longer need and you kissed me
But I was too [bad word] to really know
That you loved me enough to watch me go

I miss you