Darling, save me, if you please,
From screaming atop grey mountains,
Crying to the river's powdered hum,
And speaking into the rain.

Let me bleed for your warm embrace,
Because now the thunder is getting louder—
The storm is coming—but with you,
I don't mind it much, anyhow.

What if I ask one favor too many,
And you won't touch me anymore?
I'd shrink back to the deepening cold,
The gospel of the rain's downpour.

So I think I'm going to just give up—
In a 'sort of' sort of way,
And darling, save me if you want,
But I've not got all day.