| The kettle’s on, the sun has gone, another day
|
| She offers me Tibetan tea on a flower tray
|
| She’s at the door, she wants to score
|
| She dearly needs to say
|
| I loved you a long time ago, you know
|
| Where the wind’s own Forget-me-nots blow
|
| But I just couldn’t let myself go
|
| Not knowing what on earth there was to know
|
| But I wish that I had 'cause I’m feeling so sad
|
| That I never had one of your children
|
| Then across the room, inside a tomb
|
| A chance is waxed and wanes
|
| The night is young
|
| Why are we so hung up in each other’s chains?
|
| I must take her and I must make her while the dove domains
|
| And feel the juice run as she flies
|
| Run my wings under her sighs as the flames of eternity rise
|
| To lick us with the first born lash of dawn
|
| Oh, really, my dear, I can’t see what we fear
|
| Sat here with ourselves in between us
|
| And at the door, we can’t say more than just another day
|
| And without a sound I turn around and I walk away |