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about
Taste of whats to come...
lyrics
She dons her best silks, and I my worst pelts.
If touch was the message then I'm best unfelt.
Unfurled to the rolling hills calling our,
Conversation pouring out.
Succumb to her words and she does my verse,
My music, her knowledge... not sure which came first,
And I understand her pain, in a moment she understands,
my melodies.
I called the winter and you called my name,
I seem to be sorry for the mistakes I've,
Yet roll on the seasons, months June to May,
I'd rather the shorter day.
Turned into years, what was months and day,
Soft as my sorry was, she pushed away,
gone are the rolling hills and my Melodies,
Songs that unfurl and unroll in apologies.
I called the winter and you called my name,
I seem to be sorry for the mistakes I've,
Yet roll on the seasons, months June to May,
I'd rather the shorter day.
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