I wish you were here, dear,
I wish you were here. 
I wish you sat on the sofa 
and I sat near. 
The handkerchief could be yours, 
the tear could be mine, chin-bound. 
Though it could be, of course, 
the other way around.

I wish you were here, dear, 
I wish you were here. 
I wish we were in my car 
and you'd shift the gear. 
We'd find ourselves elsewhere, 
on an unknown shore. 
Or else we'd repair 
to where we've been before.

I wish you were here, dear, 
I wish you were here. 

I wish I knew no astronomy 
when stars appear, 
when the moon skims the water 
that sighs and shifts in its slumber.
I wish it were still a quarter 
to dial your number.

I wish you were here, dear, 
in this hemisphere, 
as I sit on the porch 
sipping a beer. 
It's evening, the sun is setting; 
boys shout and gulls are crying. 
What's the point of forgetting 
if it's followed by dying?