(Verlaine)
|
my sweetheart wrote me this little poem
|
about rocks and gemstones and things and I'd
|
like to share it with you now.
|
'jim said it's trouble deep
|
it's nothing new to him
|
he said he follows up those dreams
|
they're chapters in a book
|
he said now listen I shall read
|
"One time at sundown, I looked upon the rocks
|
knowing I'm going back to pick up what I dropped
|
so long ago. It's not a price I have to pay.
|
It's not some kind of dance away." jim told me:
|
Over and over as I walk home from work
|
that's when the sweet things come to life
|
Watchin the planes come down,
|
thinking of paradise... jim told me
|
"One time at sundown...... I only mention it to say
|
that love is a savage thing... must have its way... my room's a window, a window like the wind.
|
It's hard to explain these things."
|
(jim's feeling far removed from words like
|
these.) I listen close... he said
|
"...must have it's way over and over and over"
|
One time at sundown, one time at sundown.'
|
|
-----------------
|
One Time At Sundown
|
| Tom Verlaine |
