Dance with me a little,
let me feel your hands in mine,
your hair brushing against my face.
Speak to me a little,
let me hear an angel’s voice,
your plosives giving way to silence.
But the dead don’t sing like they used to.
All the movies are black and white.
All the women look like Greta Garbo.
All the men look like James Stewart.
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 9:13 AM UTC
Dance with me a little,
let me feel your hands in mine,
your hair brushing against my face.
Speak to me a little,
let me hear an angel’s voice,
your plosives giving way to silence.
But the dead don’t sing like they used to.
All the movies are black and white.
All the women look like Greta Garbo.
All the men look like James Stewart.
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