You keep eating melons like you're kissing me,
You curl you lips on it like you are missing me

And I stare as the light falls on your eyes,
Everyday it's like a lullaby;

I may have God on my side to feel your skin,
You are an art of Van Gogh to begin with

I know I lie when I say that you are mine,

Into your eyes
It's a disguise, in the sea and the stars
With every thunderstorm I rush into your arms
Then I wake up next to you and you were never mine,

It's a lie, you're by his side.

I'm tired Carlie,
This marriage is a waste,
You have pretty hair, and skin that shines
But I don't want to see your face

I dimmed the light in my mistress's dine
She had charged me with gold and time
I wanted her heart but alas
I realised that it wasn't mine.

I was wet darling,
The kind that bled rain from scents,

The end of March came as a bliss,
You were the chance I'd hardly miss

Little pottery pourie, naked in bed and soaked,
She realised on April first, she was the pretty joke.

And I asked her the fun and frugal
Who else hangs themselves on Christmas walls,
What do they wish to be an astronaut or a pie?
Would they breathe to live or to wake up and die

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