You and I Songtext
von The Weather Station

It was always a marriage,
From the moment that you stepped into
My hallway, shy as anyone I′ve ever known.
You choose what to believe in,
In this flippant time there's no real reason not to.
We wrote letters to each other as though addressing the ocean.
That we stand before now, you in my old cardigan,
And I in your blue jeans,
And the light turned golden on the distant headlands,
And the ocean; you and I on the other side of the world.
Love, it is no mystery, it never has been—no, not to me.
I love because I see.
But we never got better, we never got to talking,
We never figured out the questions, we got good at walking;
Walking the streets,
When it was too hot to eat, walking in step, we can′t help it.
You remember in June, you showed up one day,
With a small leather suitcase swaying your walk. And you stayed on with me late into the evening,
Into all the years that have passed on since then.
With no certainty, no agreement,
More intimate than I could imagine, but with space I cannot fathom.
Like a song with so much silence,
Just like you in your defiance—you say you never
Questioned anything; you say you knew from the beginning.
I ask for your hand in it, some infinite understanding.
But I don't know nothing of what I am
Asking; I have no idea of what it will entail.
I asked for your hand like it was too intimate to ask for your mind,
Or to count on kindness,
Like I count only on your presence,
Like I don't count on nothing else.
Oh, it was always a marriage,
From the moment that you stepped into my hallway,
Shy as anyone I′d every known, curious and alone.