Twas just a garden in the rain, close to a little leafy lane
(for Sh)
I wrote you letters in the dark
you see
you see because i
thought that love could be better
with the shaddows and the crooked lines
and the letters that don't read
right and the words that don't
make sense.
I thought i could dazzle you
with my poetry
and you could concour me
with your wit. And we'd be
like bandits in that darkness,
hiding our faces
as we lay in a bed telling eachother
our secrets
never meeting eyes.
Those hot, sticky nights
in cities so foreign to us
we couldn't even
find a coffee shop.
Cities so
foreign to us
we made plans to go again.
And those letters that
passed through our lips
and our fingers
and the miles we shared in utter sorrow
bound me to you as only
a voice without a face can do.
How many nights i have wondered
of your skin
and your drunken smiles.
How many nights
i have longed for your hand
to slip into mine
one night in the dark of some foreign city
and hear only your voice
wispered wild in my ear,
"I think Perry Como lived here."
I wrote you letters in the dark
you see
you see because i
thought that love could be better
with the shaddows and the crooked lines
and the letters that don't read
right and the words that don't
make sense.
I thought i could dazzle you
with my poetry
and you could concour me
with your wit. And we'd be
like bandits in that darkness,
hiding our faces
as we lay in a bed telling eachother
our secrets
never meeting eyes.
Those hot, sticky nights
in cities so foreign to us
we couldn't even
find a coffee shop.
Cities so
foreign to us
we made plans to go again.
And those letters that
passed through our lips
and our fingers
and the miles we shared in utter sorrow
bound me to you as only
a voice without a face can do.
How many nights i have wondered
of your skin
and your drunken smiles.
How many nights
i have longed for your hand
to slip into mine
one night in the dark of some foreign city
and hear only your voice
wispered wild in my ear,
"I think Perry Como lived here."