Is there another world you know?
I’m keeping a rigour on the snow.
To wait and see
See it quiver from below
Below the leaves.
On loving that heavenly face…
Time is the only thing I know
The middle of your mixed up six words
My love is proud, my love is small
My love is a Friday pouring
And a black wave cresting and
Crashing down the living room shore.
You say it in a foreign tongue.
…But you don’t know a thing, about the things I’ve done.