Beautiful

And it was a beat you could bop to;
Haven’t heard one of those in a while
And nobody’s so beautiful as
Dancing under the lights and we can’t see a thing
And the sweat’s standing out
And we don’t care
And your messed up hair
And how beautiful we always were.
 
Coming back from the morning run
The snow was falling
And all I wore were the shorts and shirt
That made the sweat stand out
And it was cold
And oh so beautiful
In the crystal morning
Somewhere near six and maybe seven
And I stood in the fields with my arms held out
And smiled and I never
Felt so beautiful before.
 
There’s a photograph on the web
With red-lined eyes
And pulled faces
And drunken arms over slumped shoulders
And bleary smiles
And I can’t remember
And you can’t forget;
The joke was in there somewhere
And the flash went off and caught
Such a beautiful scene.
 
And nobody’s a model in my life
And nobody’s a queen in yours
And there’ll never be
The American sash
Or the Italian strut
And we’re imperfect and toast our lives
Single and driftwood-free
At thirty-five with nothing to show for it
But in the camera flash,
The crystal mornings
And the silver lights at January gigs,
We were beautiful all the same.