My heart has begun to beat slowly for him
As if the yearning itself is naught but a whim.
My breath, it comes in short gasps,
And days and weeks consist of gaps.
Eternity has forgotten to live in space,
And flits peevishly from place to place.
In the whirlwind daze of things,
Time suddenly has a pair of wings.
As if the yearning itself is naught but a whim.
My breath, it comes in short gasps,
And days and weeks consist of gaps.
Eternity has forgotten to live in space,
And flits peevishly from place to place.
In the whirlwind daze of things,
Time suddenly has a pair of wings.
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