You are my sun And I your flower I’ll follow you till the end of days As the bee follows his queen When your are gone I’m lost Forever searching for another But none compare
In the cold, dark of January, I remembered you the most. As the chill snapped bones like branches, as the afternoons bathed themselves in gray, as the birds and the backs shook, so did my lips around your name. I'm so happy January is almost over now.
I kissed a girl with a broken smile; nothing could come near. She carved it with a pocket knife; slit from ear to ear. And she wears it like her favourite scarf; it keeps her from the cold. So I told her its only woven by her enemies of old.