the television 
looks like it's from the fifties 
except that there's a cable in the back 
and he sits in his special chair 
half awake and half aware 
that she is in the room somewhere 
that is his pivotal fact 

the photograph 
is clearly from the thirties 
with smiling features of the bride and groom 
and my eyes pan from it to them 
it looks like her, it looks like him 
and the spark of love has not grown dim 
it lights up the room 

they headed where their 
parallel lines will finally meet 
he only sought to rule the world 
to lay it at her feet 

over and over and over 
she steals his heart 
that is her art 
and over and over and over 
she chooses him 
and they both win... 

and when his knees 
are just not up to walking 
she goes down the stairs to get the mail 
and if i'm dressed and quick enough 
i sometimes go and take it up 
as if this long abiding love 
were my holy grail 

their bodies don't obey them 
in this inning of the game 
and yet the look inside their eyes 
is constant and the same 

over and over and over 
she steals his heart 
that is her art 
and over and over and over 
she chooses him 
and they both win 

Words & Music by Harriet Schock