Hello
Hello
Hello
Hello
There’s a girl who sits 12 rows in behind him and the back of her head is all he ever sees. She goes running past to grab the script of words spitting out a mile-a-minute and she’s gotta correct the descriptions in it. This morning, they crossed paths, wouldn’t you know? She beams her pearlies and offers up a hello and he never thought in a million years she cared because she and her friends all laugh, point and stare at the cubicle containing the wooly-haired man in headphones, pen and paper.
They move on so swiftly like a zooming race car ‘round the bend and he moves around so slowly, fixing up what they don’t mend.
Though they’ve spoken just a few times, maybe four lines, she still becomes a greeting as if it were the very first time and she goes on running her merry way and he don’t know if he should accept this hello bit as a token or let it go and save it for a rainy day, for an actress must edit and memorize script lines, if she wants to be good and an actor must correct her lines if he wants her to get ahead like he thinks she should and together they must dance the dance of holy oneness, as one in order to make things right, she with her script lines, he with his raw copy, ready to shove it all back into her hands.
Dance the holy dance.
Dance the holy dance.
Dance the holy dance.
She with her passion, him aching for more, for one hello equals one goodbye and he’d rather hear another hello than to hear her say goodbye. For a mere hello is a brand new open door and if it goes sour, he knows she’s just another whore, he means actress struggling to make ends meet and a hello is a hello, so why the big stink? Because a hello is a hello and a means to an end and he is wondering if they’ll go on drifting or become good friends.
A hello is a hello is a hello.
Hello, hello, my good friend let your smile show.
Hello.
Hello.
Hello.
Hello.
Hello
Hello
Hello
There’s a girl who sits 12 rows in behind him and the back of her head is all he ever sees. She goes running past to grab the script of words spitting out a mile-a-minute and she’s gotta correct the descriptions in it. This morning, they crossed paths, wouldn’t you know? She beams her pearlies and offers up a hello and he never thought in a million years she cared because she and her friends all laugh, point and stare at the cubicle containing the wooly-haired man in headphones, pen and paper.
They move on so swiftly like a zooming race car ‘round the bend and he moves around so slowly, fixing up what they don’t mend.
Though they’ve spoken just a few times, maybe four lines, she still becomes a greeting as if it were the very first time and she goes on running her merry way and he don’t know if he should accept this hello bit as a token or let it go and save it for a rainy day, for an actress must edit and memorize script lines, if she wants to be good and an actor must correct her lines if he wants her to get ahead like he thinks she should and together they must dance the dance of holy oneness, as one in order to make things right, she with her script lines, he with his raw copy, ready to shove it all back into her hands.
Dance the holy dance.
Dance the holy dance.
Dance the holy dance.
She with her passion, him aching for more, for one hello equals one goodbye and he’d rather hear another hello than to hear her say goodbye. For a mere hello is a brand new open door and if it goes sour, he knows she’s just another whore, he means actress struggling to make ends meet and a hello is a hello, so why the big stink? Because a hello is a hello and a means to an end and he is wondering if they’ll go on drifting or become good friends.
A hello is a hello is a hello.
Hello, hello, my good friend let your smile show.
Hello.
Hello.
Hello.
Hello.
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