Green Like the G Train, Green Like Sea Foam - Aaron West and The Roaring Twenties

He invited me in;

Said his name was Jesse and to take a look around

I found my coat at the bottom of the closet, dug it out

The only thing that she left

There in the middle of the room, was the couch

She’d always hated the pattern or the texture

I can’t remember it now

I relived those nights there breaking down

I guess I’ll see myself out

You kept me waiting like the G Train

I held the door open for hours.

I had to walk away

I rode the A line out to Rockaway

I’m always drawn to the water

Walked the streets to the shore

Passed by the murals fading off of the walls

Still licking the fresh wounds from a hurricane in the fall

And I watch them rebuild

I hummed a Ramone’s song out of key

Staring off at the skyline over shorebreak

And remembering that this same ocean almost killed me

South Carolina, seafoam green

You kept me waiting like the G Train

I held the door open for hours.

I had to walk away

I rode the A line out to Rockaway

I’m always drawn to the water

I felt the weight

On a calendar long enough, all my grief starts to decay

On a calendar long enough it grows more useless by the day

And I read that on a calendar long enough

New York will be returned to the sea

When the water gets high enough, it’ll take back everything

So the subway and the G Train

Our apartment, all our memories

Come to rest there under water

All the things that I thought meant the most to me

I try to picture it-- just the top of the skyline at low tide

Piercing the surface as the ships try to navigate their lanes

And there alone and triumphant on the crest of a wave

Is the couch you gave away