I can’t write you poetry,
play guitar...
I was 6 hours ahead when
you rang...
You can hear the drums from across the river
leaves are shaking...
I left my dresser-drawer slightly open,
for your spirit to slip and escape this...
My name, it is not Jack,
And I do not have a spring...
Sweet baby bird
with your wings burned black...
Your love was plain
like waves in shallow water...
The US leader
a very important man...
I've been many places, but I'm not worldly
and I've gone through a lot just don't call me...
She calmly approached him,
while he was carving a wooden bird...
When home is calling my name
my heart is aching for this old place...
To the man
who tore his lovers...