In which direction do we go
I cannot tell
for I am lost and do not wish to walk with you
through night's brisk air.
Once about the corner turn
The crunch of gravel spews from our heels.
To walk with you I cannot bear.
My wrapper held fast by a pin
My voice tucked in a woolen shield
I do not wish to walk with you
And speak of times much gayer than these.
Brisk we step
Slow we turn
Onto the street where we first met
Thus our beginning is our end.
I do not wish to walk with you again.
Sep 16, 2010
Sep 16, 2010 at 10:43 AM UTC
In which direction do we go
I cannot tell
for I am lost and do not wish to walk with you
through night's brisk air.
Once about the corner turn
The crunch of gravel spews from our heels.
To walk with you I cannot bear.
My wrapper held fast by a pin
My voice tucked in a woolen shield
I do not wish to walk with you
And speak of times much gayer than these.
Brisk we step
Slow we turn
Onto the street where we first met
Thus our beginning is our end.
I do not wish to walk with you again.
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