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1999 |
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She's catching the wind... the gentlest of breezes.
It's a sensitive passage she's sailing -
Through stormy straits, navigates my unfathomable failings.
She rises before me, reading me clearly.
Empty nest left pressed in the pillow.
She can shift, she can sway
and bend like a willow.
I'm swept in the riptide. Caught in a fish trap.
Gift-wrapped in my soft self centre.
Summer sun leaves me as one who can only taste winter.
She's a good, a good God-send... she can bend like a willow.
With a fully armed angel to cover me quickly,
I'm cool under enemy fire.
If I fall, she can crawl right under the wire.
When I'm caustic and cold, she might dare to be bold -
ease me round to her warm way of thinking...
fill me up from the cup of love that she's drinking.
And I find, given time, I can bend like a willow.
She bends like a willow
Bends like a willow.
Like a willow.
Willow.
. . .
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It's a wide world out there
So much wider than imagined
I can't quite put my finger on the pulse
Of your heart softly beating
Just beneath the raw silk sheen
That reflects the tints of Autumn from the hills.
So punch my name.
And in case you wonder -
I'll be yours - yours, dot com.
Executive accommodation
Bland but nonetheless appealing
Waiters discretely at your beck and call
Place the tall sun-down potion
Lightly by your velvet elbow
While you compose a message on the wall
So punch my name.
And in case you wonder -
I'll be yours - yours, dot com.
With your handmade leather valise
Packed and ready, ready waiting
Showered and dressed down lightly for the heat
Give a clue; leave a kind word
Hint as to a destination
A domain where our cyber-souls might meet.
So punch my name.
And in case you wonder -
I'll be yours, I'll be yours dot com.
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There's a dragon-tail swishing behind tonight.
Poison's rising. I'm up too tight.
I might not be responsible
for the things that I might do.
My tanks are full and my dogs are loose.
Bees in my bonnet. Stew in juice.
Sauté-simmer, shallow-fry
when it all trickles down to you.
It all trickles down.
Yes it all trickles down.
Well it all trickles down,
from me to you.
My day was rough, don't care about yours.
I put muddy feet on your polished floor.
A goose to cook, a job that I'm
well qualified to do.
And it all trickles down.
Yes it all trickles down.
Well it all trickles down
from me to you.
Would be the one, would be the tea on toast.
Would be the Son, would be the Holy Ghost.
If this is not believable
then you've just had one too few.
Would be the mad Jack to your Queen of Spades.
A little Mac in your burger trade.
One dead-cert consequence --
it all trickles down to you.
And it all trickles down.
Yes it all trickles down.
Well it all trickles down
from me to you.
There's a dragon-tail swishing behind tonight.
Poison's rising. I'm up too tight.
I might not be responsible
for the things that I might do.
My tanks are full and my dogs are loose.
Bees in my bonnet. Stew in juice.
Sauté-simmer, shallow-fry
when it all trickles down to you.
It all trickles down.
Yes it all trickles down.
Well it all trickles down,
from me to you.
. . .
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