I was just bony hands, as cold as a winter pole You held a warm stone out, new flowing blood to hold Oh what a contrast you were To the brutes in the halls My timid young fingers held a decent animal.
Over the ramparts you tossed The scent of your skin and some foreign flowers Tied to a brick Sweet as a song The years have been short but the days were long.
Cool of a temperate breeze from dark skies to wet grass We fell in a field, it seems, now a thousand summers past When our kite lines first crossed We tied them into knots And to finally fly apart We had to cut them off.
Since then it's been a book you read in reverse So you understand less as the pages turn Or a movie so crass And awkwardly cast That even I could be the star.
I don't look back much as a rule And all this, way before murder was cool But your memory is here and I'd like it to stay: Warm light on a winter's day.
Over the ramparts you tossed The scent of your skin and some foreign flowers Tied to a brick Sweet as a song The years have seemed short but the days go slowly by Two loose kites falling from the sky Drawn to the ground and an end to flight.