i saw your name in the national paper 
now you were famous and restless and far away 
the words that i'd said on that day in september 
lost in the depths and the winds of a memory 

adrift in the city of glitter and glamour 
we began at the close of the masquerade 
electric moments and brief conversations  
a thousand years ago 

call it whatever you want  
it’s still love to me  

plans and obsessions for clandestine meetings 
brought us together in moments so fleeting 
hotels and airports as place of communion 
thunder and rain on the way to the theatre 

now that it’s over I’ve searched for the meaning  
part of me missing and another part screaming  
is this the last time, the last closing door 
after us is there anything more?  

call it whatever you want  
it’s still love to me

Call It Whatever You Want

metaprofessor