Opening the doors of memory
And wandering with an exhumed desire
I carry like a wound the lovely memory
Of you along the dark street in the dawn.
Across fences and between telephone wires
A damp mist moving shows the blank sun
And walking as the streetlights are extinguished
A blackbird's is my own inaudible song.
I carry like a wound the lovely memory
Of you along the dark street in the dawn.
Across fences and between telephone wires
A damp mist moving shows the blank sun
And walking as the streetlights are extinguished
A blackbird's is my own inaudible song.
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