P.S. Eliot - Asphalt lyrics

Pass it off like a chore, we run late
Racking for rationale to berate me
The coffee has gotten cold and i summon
Patience as my fragile heart
Beats like a drum
This is not, is not language
No this is not love at all
My veins shiver as a spectacle
And you're stoic and tall
Get up off the floor
I know this is a blurred, pitiful galore
And we all find solace in heartache and grief
Some sequence of warm, self-loathing relief
We can't speak and
You poetically depart from me
Written words like a marquee
And i can't move and i can't speak
This language is foreign to me
I look outside, what do i see
Steam off the asphalt from all the heat
And all the asphalt that i see
The steam just seems to follow me
And i can't leave without acquaintance
Tagging along behind me
Listen to me when i talk, in a trance
Good advice bounces right off of
You at first glance
We're alone in public spaces
We're always alone
Isolated embrace, you're error-prone
You keep calling, shaken-up
Dissecting every word thereof
This is not, this is not a language
No this is not, could not be love