Will we meet in shady groves; Upon a hill? Perhaps in morning. In hidden vines of deepest green… Does day break? We spool in canopies as the world beyond awakes; Cocoons of fragrant freshness. So here I sit and of you I wish.
Will we meet in times of woe; Under streets beveiled? Perhaps in mourning. The well-worn cobbles ache terribly, my dear, let us go inside A yellow cigarette crushed against the glass; I burn for tenderness and see It in your eye. So there you sway and beneath you I lay.
Will your face be one I know; Past veils of spidersilk? Perhaps, my darling. This well-worn world aches terribly, let us make our own From shady grove to comforts home; an empire on the hill. Lifetime passes in an eyeblink. So with you I hide Til our tender world’s first sunrise.