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He laid emeralds in his eyes but I'd already tried a bracelet made of gold and
a scarlet thread around his wrist. Everything was wrong, so we sang sentimental songs. "oh how seldom we belong, but how elegant our kiss!" We painted crooked lines, but we danced in
perfect time to a love so much refined, we know not what it is until like a dullen wine, we
pour into a grief we'd know before, but never quite like this. Never quite like this. All I know now is regret,
it follows like a sillouete along the cobblestone behind me, but has nothing much to say
except to innocently ask, its voice delicate as glass "do you see me when we pass?"
but I continue on my way.