I was just bony hands as cold as a winter pole
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You held a warm stone out new flowing blood to hold
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Oh what a contrast you were to the brutes in the halls
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My timid young fingers held a decent animal
|
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Over the ramparts you tossed
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The scent of your skin and some foreign flowers
|
Tied to a brick
|
Sweet as a song
|
The years have been short
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But the days were long
|
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Cool of a temperate breeze from dark skies to wet grass
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We fell in a field it seems now a thousand summers passed
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When our kite lines first crossed
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We tied them into knots
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And finally fly apart
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We had to cut them off
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Since then it's been a book you read in reverse
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So you understand less as the pages turn
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Or a movie so crass
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And awkwardly cast
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Even I could be the star
|
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I don't look back much as a rule
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And all this way before murder was cool
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But your memory is here and I'd it to stay
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Warm light on a winter day
|
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Over the ramparts you tossed
|
The scent of your skin and some foreign flowers
|
Tied to a brick
|
Sweet as a song
|
The years have been short
|
But the days go slowly by
|
Two loose kites falling from the sky
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Drawn to the ground and an end to flight
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|
-----------------
|
Pink Bullets
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| Iron Horse |
