My beer and I, we look at you, thinking it would be so easy, to say something, to invite you up to my flat.
But it is a flat image, a flat scene. I know nothing about you was ever easy.
Easiness is a layered concept - of course, even the concept of simplicity gets to act as something overly complicated when I am the one to describe it.
I have found an easiness you could never offer me. I have found an easiness in conversation, in long evenings, even in distance; I have found, as inexperienced as a fourteen year-old, affection without embarrassment.
Oh, it'd be so easy, inviting you up to my room; easy because it would be worth so little.