Alex: Barnes has been blind to what the rest of us have seen for months.
But that changed today, and Marion sung for all of us what she’s been singing only to herself.
Lyrics: I Won’t Say It Until I See You Can Hear Me
[Verse 1]
I left a lamp on in the window,
not because I thought you’d see.
Only because the dark feels kinder
when it’s keeping company.
(Expand for more…)
You passed by with your hands full,
tea and tools and wounded grace.
I said, “The hinge is sticking, Barnes,”
when I meant, “Please stay.”
[Chorus]
I won’t say it until I see you can hear me.
I won’t name the fire while you’re still afraid of flame.
I’ll say, “The roof needs mending,”
when I mean, “I know your pain.”
I won’t say it until I see you can hear me,
but every quiet word is leaning toward your name.
[Verse 2]
I bring you books with margins
where the truest things are small.
You laugh and miss the meaning,
which is safest after all.
You say, “This tea is perfect.”
I say, “It only had to steep.”
You never hear the tremble
in the secrets that I keep.
[Bridge]
But when you finally turn toward me,
when your careful eyes confess,
I will not say, “I told you.”
I will simply answer, “Yes.”
Every folded little sentence,
every clue I hid from view,
will open like a letter
that was always meant for you.
[Final Chorus]
Now I’ll say it because I see you can hear me.
Now I’ll name the fire and trust it to be kind.
I’ll say, “I love you, Barnes,”
and let the rain resign.
I won’t say it until I see you can hear me—
that was how I loved you
before your heart heard mine.
Alex Bakerloo 