Knocking on your door But no one's home today I brought a cake and iced champagne It was supposed to be a special occasion I call and get no answer I get no explanation I'm just standing here by myself But I guess that's how it goes So, oh well Songbirds Lovebirds What difference does it make? It's all a dance to be danced The end result is the same Everything that happens winds up in the grave Still wide awake at 2 My palms sweat in a motel room See you again? Maybe the next time Maybe someday soon
For when the sun burns and turns colden, The bright yellow spurns from beauty golden, to a lack of interest for a system relying on light to pour; listen though sound travels less in haste, it makes our bodies bounce.
For when the girl is burned and trounce The bright mind spurned from evening gown to a lack of interest to assist him. He relied on her light to pour; her to listen though sorry travels, lest after distaste, it makes us pronounce.
For when a mistake is burned into history. The stone cold as etched again, and sought. Good will may be borrowed, entrusted, stolen, but rarely bought.
For when a daybreak creeps into horizon. The stones thrown as glass houses brought Goodly upon their foundations, in the naked eyes of all sunspot.
May those coloured fractals of which lurch deftly. Return to shared *****, directly, swiftly. Freshly.