Текст: Bright Eyes. Laura Laurent.

Laura, are you still living there on your estate of sorrow? You used to leave it occasionally but now you don't even bother to ride that commuter train west to Chicago, to stroll through the greenery in the park past the statues. How their eyes seemed to follow you like a hated addiction, their beauty carved out of absolutes you could never claim or even envision.
Laura, you were the saddest song in the shape of a woman, yeah I thought you were beautiful but I wept with your movements. But I hope that you're laughing now from that place on the carpet where we shared a sleeping bag in your sister's apartment. Oh how she would worry so, you know I was just a stranger but she asked me to care for you, yes she did and I went and betrayed her. But do you know we're in high demand, Laura, us people who suffer? Because we don't take to arguing and we're quick to surrender.

Well I think I would call tonight if I still had your number, your thoughts they always laid close to mine, we were both skipping supper. But you should never be embarrassed by your trouble with living because it's the ones with the sorest throats, Laura, who have done the most singing.