shiny black night rain falling in the streets the house of clocks ticks full of ghosts & echoes four am the phone rings your voice slurred sweet with wine so far from our bed you will cuddle-in you say but you don't know when
don't want to go back don't want to do it over everyone's running in opposing directions running away seeking change
i want to run into this new dawn with you & hide in the soft dark of our bed i want to kiss you & hold you & throw you down in that horrid pleated catholic school girl's skirt i love so much the tiny black angora sweater the pearls & the soft white thighs unfolding in the dark like some night flower...