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For Franz Kline

de Morton Feldman

Emma, I can't write songs like you can
So I don't know what I'm trying here to do
'Cause every word I write is just my brain to my hands
But you lay out the deepest parts of you

Emma, I know that long as we are able
That we're not doing labels
And that's fine
Emma, I'm not here looking for an answer
I'm just looking for your hands to stay in mine

'Cause your name is on my lips
If I don't sing it, I'll eclipse
The stuff I've yet to figure out
So I'm yelling in my car
Trying to get to where you are

Emma, I plan my days around your calls
And chisel at all of my walls so you can see
That Emma, I'm not a friend or foe or stranger
I'm not innocent or dangerous
I'm me

Emma, I've never ever been a fighter
I'm a hold-me-even-tighter kind of guy
So Emma, I can pretend that we're the same
But every time you say my name, I touch the sky

'Cause Emma, I'm 18
And I've learned way more than I'm supposed to know
But Emma, I'm 18
And you show me the world for the first time even so

Whoa
Emma

Emma, I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is knocking on your door
Emma, I haven't seen you since December
So your eyes make me remember what I'm here for

Emma, you probably didn't even see it
But I felt your heart beating so fast
So Emma, you can say you want me to go
But till then, I'll kiss you so maybe this lasts

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