raising the power, wiring love
mending it like a wounded animal
hearing the clashes and maddening crisps of ashes
above
I fear that it should crash wrong again
it will blame it on me
opened window, window pane
one foot in the space, a hand seeks for a handle or hand
shattered wind and blown poplars below, under the glass
so blue, so sane
sudden glimpses of me from every piece of the smashed pure blue
it will blame it on me
will or shall not, anyway haven't done
there had to be who and why and what
used to be, and don't care whether am or am not
this very air tomorrow will be pleased to meet the setting sun
they will blame it on the fog
please listen, stay where you are
please don't look as if you are going to love
please search for the wistle in the cool strange air, I am not
that far
I've been thinking and loving and loved and I guess I was doomed
please blame it on fog
/Morr/