tiny lyrics

(It´s as important to be in love, as it is to have been heart-broken)

cause I rarely write about love, now our silence´s well spoken,
now I have only the time to live your night´s token.
And I love having been in love with those early gonners,
those morning mourners
those horny corners...

You leave me room to relate
with all the songs of heartbrake
and maybe I can still write love poems for my lates
back in the day.

All my old muses,
they just all excuses
those fifty-three uses,
I find for your rhymes.

And hell I do love this feeling
This flashback, the wheel in
the road where I´d been in
those early long dreamin,
a child dumb-struck

the trucks that we´d jumped on,
the travels I´d dreamed of
the night´s that we planned on
The weather of babilon,
when you were just gone


and they can all become words, and they can all become line,
and they can all become cream, dripped into the coffee
I sipped in my mind
they melt in the bars while I pay for my crime

I keep them a notebook,
a rose by the bed-side
A chime and a key-chain
(maybe even a postcard, of that strange never-been plain)
A garlic-bread, a graffiti line, steak-knife case and
the words said in wine.

they´ve got all those sobbed tones,
they´ve got all those pink moans,
they´ve got it all drawn out,
they´ve got it all waxed in
they´ve got it all stuffed as
the old envelope´s skin

They´ve got a few tears
A book by the year
Unforgetfull sins, spoken right in my ear
One last joke unspoken,
the leaves still unbroken
and maybe three hearts
of the ones I had stolen...

while I leave you mine.