She keeps a red lamp always on; You’ll never see it until the light is gone; The whispers will then call out sweet nothings; To a street that always pulls on your strings.
You tell yourself it’s only just a little stroll, Just a walk down that street without a goal, But soon you’ll find yourself going to that door, And waiting in the hall behind one more—
Each of you avoiding the others’ gaze, Each of you feel lost in a separate maze, In his eyes he tries to hide that glint, And you pretend you don’t have a hint.
This lonely feeling has got you bad; It’s so down deep it could drive you mad; Try as you might, you’ll never fill it; Try as you might, you’ll never kill it.
When she finally comes to that door, You sheepishly ask her for a chore; She reaches out and takes your hand, She promises to take you to a whole new land.
She keeps a red lamp always on, You’ll never see it until the light is gone
a hint.
This lonely feeling has got you bad; It’s so down deep it could drive you mad; Try as you might, you’ll never fill it; Try as you might, you’ll never kill it.
When she finally comes to that door, You sheepishly ask her for a chore; She reaches out and takes your hand, She promises to take you to a whole new land.
She keeps a red lamp always on, You’ll never see it until the light is gone
Only One
Of all the blooming flowers in the field, Each more precious than the last, Each with velvet petals that shudder in the breeze, Each with its own unique fragrance, To lure you in close, Where you’ll see shades of blush, Flamingo fading into fuchsia, a cherry core—
Of all the blooming flowers in the field Must a man really choose but one?
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