one day in september you come here. 

you pull my head down 

and you whisper in my ear. 

and you tell me the sidewalk is as far as the world really goes 

but that's a secret everybody knows. 



you hold my head in your hands. 

you say my name. 

how is it that though you say it some twenty thousand times 

it's never quite the same 

and you tell me that hercules died burning 

consumed by an article of his own clothing 

that's something I'd rather not be reminded of.