Isn't it ectastic
To live in a world of color
Or to think of you in the shower
Drying yourself off me, baby
Think about the distant stars
The lonely miles between
And all the lustful dreams
Of meeting you by the ocean
At low tide on a grey day
Nothing bombastic but
You said you loved me
And we walked out into
The waves and picked broken
Shells with our toes, like apples.
And isn't it ectastic
To live in a time of love
To love in a time of love