All these people looking for love,
but what is it all for?

Sailing out, day after day,
then dragging back home—
but what is it all for?

When I had love, it annoyed me.
The pestering at night, the
closeness—

what was it all for?

Now I stand here,
deadheading my cyclamens,
drinking coffee,

enjoying silence
and space.

But what is it all for?