The shadows break across the wallsnOf a dim lit room pushed up against darkened halls.nThis blanket-laden bed won't take the shapenOf the sleeping silhouette I used to watch as I lay awake.nnAnd half my life is on California time,nThe other half is sitting here in Boston,nTrying to picture her 3 hours behind.nnMaybe she's climbing cumulonimbus mountain tops;nWhipped translucent white with precipitate that hasn't dropped.nMaybe she's grinning, remember snow angels and cider drinks;nHer skin percolating in memory, raising bumps as her stomach sinks.nnCuz' love's the stuff that let's you livenWithout limiting your life.nThe give and take that takes the shapenOf the last one that you see at night...nnAnd half my life is on California time,nThe other half is sitting here in Boston,nTrying to picture her 3 hours behind.nnBut picture frames, they don't feel the samenAs arms around a shared last namenTaking shape on this olive-stainednPortrait of a girl.nnFalling asleep holding telephones,nShe's on her shore and I'm on my own,nMaking love through this dial-tone.nThis dial-tone....nnAnd half my life is on California time,nThe other half is sitting here in Boston,nTrying to picture her 3 hours behind.