Who could know what I know, at the end of the
world,
When the skies fire up and I think of a girl?
The wind quietly slips melancholy into my mind,
As she flies away with the breeze of time.
She whispers something I can't hear,
And I can't help but want her near.
So far away, she's floating free,
And I couldn't cage her joy and glee.
As her smile is distantly fading,
I think of all the dark shading,
That I made around her pretty brow,
As I drew her and she asked me: "how?"
She didn't know why I could want her now.
Not knowing what she had to offer,
She said she couldn't be a lover:
"But I don't want a lover, dear,
Just someone to have real near."
She frowned and looked at me so puzzled,
Saying that it wasn't fair to me.
Then I lay awake and felt so muzzled,
Like a dog that can't be free.
If I saw her now, I would've asked her something
too:
"How do you make me smile the way you do?"
And she'd laugh and misunderstand, again,
Thinking that I want more than a friend,
And now that's something that isn't fair.
I miss the girl who flew away,
And turned mountains into clay,
Over the dark but moonlit bay.
When the sun comes up this May,
I'll ask her if she's inclined to stay.
Here -- where the moonshine is grey
Blurring black and white every new day.
