(no subject)
Beneath the sheets, a place so black,
Where I am kissing baby's back.
A warm cocoon, threads still intact,
Where I am kissing baby's back.
The world asleep, the night so cold,
And time stands still, or so I'm told
By lack of knowledge that soon grows old
And turns into dirt, which turns into mold.
A lucid joy that I once knew
Like green grass knows the morning dew,
Turns solid gold when I'm with you,
My baby's back, for you are true.
But baby's gone, and I'm alone,
And every night's a monotone
Of hollow grunts that go unknown
By anything or one I own.
As months go by there is no lack
Of dreams where I kiss baby's back.
An empty train goes down the track
Where I once kissed my baby's back.
Where I am kissing baby's back.
A warm cocoon, threads still intact,
Where I am kissing baby's back.
The world asleep, the night so cold,
And time stands still, or so I'm told
By lack of knowledge that soon grows old
And turns into dirt, which turns into mold.
A lucid joy that I once knew
Like green grass knows the morning dew,
Turns solid gold when I'm with you,
My baby's back, for you are true.
But baby's gone, and I'm alone,
And every night's a monotone
Of hollow grunts that go unknown
By anything or one I own.
As months go by there is no lack
Of dreams where I kiss baby's back.
An empty train goes down the track
Where I once kissed my baby's back.