Do you think of me?
With the back of my hand clasped between these teeth
And how?
Tell it to me plainly through the lines on your palms
And whisper into my mouth,
Where
And wherever won't matter;
We don't hear each other
Bells won't sound when I know it's over
Only the outcry of a forlorn rooster
Sung without a shadow of a doubt
Oct 4, 2025
Oct 4, 2025 at 9:01 PM UTC
Do you think of me?
With the back of my hand clasped between these teeth
And how?
Tell it to me plainly through the lines on your palms
And whisper into my mouth,
Where
And wherever won't matter;
We don't hear each other
Bells won't sound when I know it's over
Only the outcry of a forlorn rooster
Sung without a shadow of a doubt
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