You're so happy,
You're so sad.
It's like your tears
Were made of shooting stars,
And your sigh
—oh your sigh,
Took out the last fragments
Of the pain
From all your wars.

You're so happy,
You're so sad.
Heart's fleeting
After a couple of tunes,
And mind's sweeping
Your feelings
Cause you're not the type
Who swoons.
                                —a.t.