I walk out into the good 'ol twilight,
Afraid of nary a scary thing bright:
But my silhouette's greater height,
That, that makes me begin wonder,
As I shudder cold in the frigid night;
And throw my dim echoes well in sight
Of my widened wandering eyes tonight;
And now I shall box my shadow asunder.

Under the thick of loves thumb
I found a boxing glove
Short of that I found a bruise
Trying it on, following an angular shadow
The blues of chewing with a bruised jaw
Two left feet
Taking a seat rubbing my brow
Her how didn't add up to the purpose,
Another shadow appearing
brow now endowed with a pulsating throb
The blues of chewing with a bruised jaw
The pain of loves boxing glove