The sun burns my flesh, on a cold winter day.
It is so lovely,
The river is burgeoning over the landings,
Is it even May?
You bludgeon me,
On a cold winters day.
What are we to do,
Ever in a forestall.
Tumbling we fall,
The wind forces violence upon you -
We float,
Lifted by the base of her smile
How will life be in that tortured boat?
Blown this way and that,
The warmth turns to chilling rain.
I suffer her pain
Love is of the deadliest sorts.
I hope we'll have it sorted out for tomorrow -
I died one of many deaths, as usual
Just to hear the news
- souffle -
Just to hear the news...
Lest we grow old
I will love you
Lest we grow impoverished
I will yearn for you
There is no fear,
You've lost your rival!
Off with your head, Queen Anne's dead!
Enjoy the day, as the sun beats wild about you.
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