we were born
through thunderstorms
she smells like autumn gold
she grins another mystery
and wins some control
her head and skin is oxygen
fireflies in flame
i make another joke and hope
it hides the lovesick shame
she breathes for me
she teases me
she's close enough to taste
well, no one wants to be alone in april
her lonesome lover bedroom sigh
could make me cry tonight
as we drink
think of better times
in this cemetary light