leaving a lover, leaving a party, anything you leave, saying good-bye any time, has an ending.

with a song, it’s hard to know when.

because it’s a small invention. with no conclusions. when I write a song, I’m not theorizing anything. nothing comes together at the end, except the end and the beginning. a return to something as it was.

when something in me believes it is the end, I just turn away. that’s one honest way to end things.

if I take apart one of my songs, I will find a comforting, consoling sadness remains, hopefully something beautiful from the beginning all the way to the measurement of the heart.