I'm at the airport now
Really my life has been so so very easy
I'm in no rush in the mornings now
I'm happy to let the breeze make me feel so so easy
The young man rushes by
I couldn't even say your name
The young man fusses, wondering why
Was it something to do with life's endless game
I returned the book
What was that all about
Did you take a second look
Did you hear me shout out
I heard nothing
I hear no call out
I handed you the book
What was that all about
I handed back the book
What was that all about
I handed back the book
It was the first gift, when we started out
I handed back the book
What was that all about
I handed back the book
Bought in Santa Monica, without doubt
I handed back the book
What was that all about
I handed back the book
Five Memos For The Millennium
Within, without; I went by the airport
Without a single thought of Jersey
Yet here, only half a mile down the road
My thoughts are already at Mon Plaisir
I'm on the motorway now
The cruise control is set
I sort of second guessed
Mon Plaisir was beautiful for you too
Perhaps even more peaceful, and inspiring
Before I arrived on your doorstep
When you had created a homely space
For your friends, and your young family
To that end was I a disruption
Did I corrupt your innocence
To that end just what did I tip up
Did I not offer any more sound sense
I'm not always too good in the moment
Sometimes I struggle to concentrate
Take last Friday, when I saw you
I couldn't find the time, I was in such a state
Something to do with inappropriate preparation
Something to do with my own confused situation
My less than hopeless social skills;
Once more reaching for the out door, before fully entering the in door
I want to strip you back
I want to clear away the make up
I want to strip you, down to the barest tack
I want to make you, to raise your breasted cup
Why didn't we ever find such freedom
What was it always defence or attack
Why did we tie the knots of freedom
Why did we not find our way back
How fortunate am I
To have someone who cuts so deep into my psyche
How fortunate am I
To have someone speaking to me and my Reiki
Now it's a song
Which I don't really want to talk over
A song
Which very much makes me think of you
You are my Last Of The English Roses
What was I, before I ever thought of you
You are my Last Of The English Roses
What was I, before I ever thought of you
You are my Last Of The English Roses
What was I, before I ever thought of you
You are my Last Of The English Roses
What was I, before I ever thought of you |
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