Asymptotes Lyrics

I woke up at a quarter-after nine
on a hard-wood floor on the lower-west-side of Brooklyn.
The cloud cover outside matched the off-white of my eyes
and the vessels looked like train lines--the ones you drew to take me home and away from you.

"It's time to go",
I announce to absolutely no one.
I pack my bags and recite an epitaph called
It's Raining in Plattsburgh Again.

I took the subway back to Union St.
and I hopped a train back to Ossining.
I held on to the rail so tight
that my fingers and my knuckles turned white.
I knew if I fell right then, there would be no getting back up again.

And she said "It's raining in Plattsburgh again."

It's raining in Plattsburgh again.