like
like a mirror
like a new pin
like a lullaby
like an aphid
like coal
like acetone
like concrete
like pure driven snow
like paper
like Africa
like gold dust
like a dream
like a river
like a lion
like a leaf
like an island
like a deep, deep sadness
like a photograph
like an angel
like seeds
like Campari and soda
like the wind
like flowers
like bedlam
like you and me
like putty in her hands
like ice
like propane
like India
like talc
like Natalie
like fire
like a rash
like stone
like poison
like falling off a log
like the way it looked before
like a brother
like thunder
like living forever
like me
like an arrow
like it was never there
like a dog but bigger
like all the others
like a rocket
like a book
like everyone else out there
like Portuguese rice pudding
like iron
like a bull in a china shop
like poetry
like soot
like water off a duck’s back
like wood
like long words
like watching paint dry
like it or not, it won’t go away
like the ocean
like a warm spring morning in rural Spain
like morphine
like the way you say “make yourself sick”
like the width of this room
like another world
like a dull TV program
like a very pale pink
like it will never stop
like toothache
like a fairy elephant
like your sister was
like we were last spring
like a sparrow that can pronounce the word love
like pins and needles
like an old lady’s handbag
like treacle
like stars
like a bright shining lie
like one hundred years of solitude
like the bible
like a child
like lemonade
like a sinking feeling in your stomach
like a bee sting
like chocolate
like a photo of someone you’ve never met
like trying to remember things before you were born
like trying to remember something you never knew
like the things computers do
like a dog on heat
like malaria
like sawdust
like a black and white movie
like when you were little
like a pale yellow flower
like falling off a ship into a dark, dark ocean
like losing your best friend
like I was before
like Martyn does
like the sun on my back
like it or not you’re still here
like TV
like watching paint dry
like the sound of your own voice
like loving someone who doesn’t exist
like it was never there
like a mirror
like a new pin
like a lullaby
like an aphid
like coal
like acetone
like concrete
like pure driven snow
like paper
like Africa
like gold dust
like a dream
like a river
like a lion
like a leaf
like an island
like a deep, deep sadness
like a photograph
like an angel
like seeds
like Campari and soda
like the wind
like flowers
like bedlam
like you and me
like putty in her hands
like ice
like propane
like India
like talc
like Natalie
like fire
like a rash
like stone
like poison
like falling off a log
like the way it looked before
like a brother
like thunder
like living forever
like me
like an arrow
like it was never there
like a dog but bigger
like all the others
like a rocket
like a book
like everyone else out there
like Portuguese rice pudding
like iron
like a bull in a china shop
like poetry
like soot
like water off a duck’s back
like wood
like long words
like watching paint dry
like it or not, it won’t go away
like the ocean
like a warm spring morning in rural Spain
like morphine
like the way you say “make yourself sick”
like the width of this room
like another world
like a dull TV program
like a very pale pink
like it will never stop
like toothache
like a fairy elephant
like your sister was
like we were last spring
like a sparrow that can pronounce the word love
like pins and needles
like an old lady’s handbag
like treacle
like stars
like a bright shining lie
like one hundred years of solitude
like the bible
like a child
like lemonade
like a sinking feeling in your stomach
like a bee sting
like chocolate
like a photo of someone you’ve never met
like trying to remember things before you were born
like trying to remember something you never knew
like the things computers do
like a dog on heat
like malaria
like sawdust
like a black and white movie
like when you were little
like a pale yellow flower
like falling off a ship into a dark, dark ocean
like losing your best friend
like I was before
like Martyn does
like the sun on my back
like it or not you’re still here
like TV
like watching paint dry
like the sound of your own voice
like loving someone who doesn’t exist
like it was never there
