I always hated the way
Your face burnt into the sun
'Cause you became the reason
That everything shone.
It always meant
That I could never wash you
Out of my brain
'Cause no one can ever get
Close enough to the sun
To rid it of you.
Rainy days soon became my favourite
A sort of cleasning; a break from you.
My house also soon became a comfort
So did shadey trees, and clouds
They always blocked your face
And shielded me from the sun.