thirty years of the hush,
low on love, low on rush,
rustle and scent of moon in the sagebrush.
in this moonlight, reborn
as a sharp rose thorn,
to the pane will I lean, scratch and burn.
thirty years in the hush;
no one's dye, no one's brush
jogged your memory of me in the hush.
not a soul within range.
still, the rain is my quench;
let me knock at the pane with a branch.
bridge, your home; believing the terrain,
I am diving birdlike in the rain.
soon the day. we pull the stupid chain.
thunder, splash and thunder strike again.
deep in the apple heart
will I sleep, but apart
as long as are we, will the cold headwind feel like flame.
Original: altwall.net/texts.php?show=tequilajazzz&number=39928
Original/audio: music.yandex.ru/album/58899/track/549169
Original/audio: kroogi.com/player/iframe/365388
Original/video: www.youtube.com/watch?v=j2y0Jrb1k-4