I develop oddly deep emotional connections to people in my life that are one-sided. I may just be a passing character to them. I don’t know what that is. I don’t know why that is. I can have one encounter with somebody and feel very connected to them and read a lot into that. They become very important people to me, but to them I may just be like, “Oh yeah, we talked that one time, right?” To me it’s a live-changing moment that bonded us; to them, it was a five-minute polite chat in passing
"If this was the Cold War, we could keep each other warm," I said on the first occasion that I met Marie.
We were crawling through the hatch that was the missile silo door, and I don’t think that she really thought that much of me.
I never had to learn to love her like I learned to love the bomb,
she just came along and started to ignore me.
And as we waited for The Big One,I started singing her my songs,
and I think she started feeling something for me.
We passed the time with crosswords that she thought to bring inside. “What five letters spell ‘apocalypse,’” she asked me.
I won her over singing, “W-W-I-I-I,” she smiled, and we both knew that she misjudged me.
Oh, Marie, it was so easy to fall in love with you.
It felt almost like a home of sorts or something.
You would keep the warhead missile silo good as new,
and I’d watch you with my thumb above the button.
Then one night you found me in my army issue cot, and you told me of your flash of inspiration.
You said fusion was the broken heart that’s lone as only thought, and all night long you drove me wild with your equations.
Oh, Marie, do you remember all the time we used to take?
We’d make our love and then ransack the rations.
I think about you leaving now and the avalanche cascades,
my eyes get washed away with chain reactions.
Oh, Marie, if you would stay, then we could stick pins in the map of all the places where you thought that love would be found.
But I would only need one pin to show where my love’s at—in a top secret location three hundred feet under the ground.
Oh, we could hold each other close, stay up every night,
looking up into the dark like it’s the night sky.
Pretend this giant missile is an old oak tree instead,
and I’ll carve your name in hearts into the warhead.
Oh, Marie, there’s something tells me things just won’t work out above, that our love would live a half life on the surface.
So at night while you are sleeping I hold you closer just because, and as our time grows short I get a little nervous.
Oh I think about The Big One, W-W-I-I-I,
would we ever really care the world had ended?
You could hold me here forever like your holding me tonight.
I think about that great big button
and I’m tempted.