(to Astoria...)
7: I've Just seen a Face
She's not what I'd expect but as it is I'll try to picture her without her black curls, I'll try to see only the dress, the heavy footstep, the distressed pace, the old, sweet mess.
There's a little cross at her breast, what for? Do you know what you're wearing? Do you know why you're calling?
She's doesn't believe in me, so I keep coming back again.
When will my rush stop? It was never quite like this.
