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.