April never did a thing to me yet
There is a mean month caught my
Fingers in a cold vise, because of
Memory and desire
Memory, desire, and you, always
Hit me in the dark days of Winter
You, yes you, so silent then
Now you wish to speak so
It's not in me to turn away
Sing to me.
Dec 20, 2020
Dec 20, 2020 at 4:15 PM UTC
April never did a thing to me yet
There is a mean month caught my
Fingers in a cold vise, because of
Memory and desire
Memory, desire, and you, always
Hit me in the dark days of Winter
You, yes you, so silent then
Now you wish to speak so
It's not in me to turn away
Sing to me.
Another true story. Time is relative.