I've always liked rhythms that stroke my sullen spirit,
and now I hear the Blues rain down from the ceiling,
Ah, I remember! Timeless love songs, of which
oh--
it seems I have forgotten the meaning.
That is quite all right. We make our own,
don't we?
My life was not meant for me.
Do you feel the rain droplets tickle your forehead?
I'm thirsty: Serve me a glass of your finest words
Or let them fall on the tawny sill and the window pane
My mouth is open,
either way.
Feb 26
Feb 26, 2026 at 6:45 AM UTC
I've always liked rhythms that stroke my sullen spirit,
and now I hear the Blues rain down from the ceiling,
Ah, I remember! Timeless love songs, of which
oh--
it seems I have forgotten the meaning.
That is quite all right. We make our own,
don't we?
My life was not meant for me.
Do you feel the rain droplets tickle your forehead?
I'm thirsty: Serve me a glass of your finest words
Or let them fall on the tawny sill and the window pane
My mouth is open,
either way.
