Her mystery I barely dare to think of you out there to think that you might think of me during a lonely hour to think that you might notice me examining your hair or the arcs of your shapely body when there's no-one there I hardly dare to think about how you'd feel or to imagine how you'd handle me how easily you'd scare to believe that there is chemistry even from this far to be enveloped in your mysteries whatever they are ... In their hearts If only it wasn't true that my heart so weak and my blood so volatile wasn't aching If only it wasn't real that the stars that weep and the galaxies expanding wasn't an illusion If only it wasn't beautiful that the years so hard and the raindrops so wonderful that the birds on the wing are so alive in their hearts and aching
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