Was Tuesday, pale and gray
Hungry, stray, cold as the cat
It happened then, stayed
Come any near, you are slashed

If I had, I'd give you
Time, forever, mortal
Wings to fly, hands to pray
Eyes to close, lungs to shut

For another cry, good and dry
Without skin, melt a touch
No heat, no cloud to lift
Was Tuesday, all the saints' lips

What astronomer, the stargazer
What is it like from above?
What metaphor, such tongue
Warmth matters not any longer