The old cuckoo has been strangled rolling in dust for its coarse and harsh cries are bringing back the memories too hard to bear too painful to hear The cobwebs in the old piano have marked the crotchet of my memories with the missing touch of my lover's fingers devoid of its symphony The broken chair and cracked mirrors are storing the reflection in its cracks my tongue slaps my cheek to hear the broken verses and lost songs from the past Those folds in the sheets holds the warmth of our supple skin Too fearful to lose the memories, I'm letting the wrinkles sink in The air is heavy and laced with your memories in this old dusty room those specks of dust are dancing and dangling intoxicated by the love of our old moon. |