Straining my windows as days fold and unfold,
Sure, some things are magical.
Still, I know when I'm just pretending.
Existence is tough and you have to work it.
And I'm working it when it comes to you,
My darling.
Pardon me, mister, but you're doing it all wrong.
And you know me... you know me...
I know I made a promise.
But this flashes of agony, unless they leave me alone...
Comfort me a little,
a gentle stroke of love,
and I'll yield I swear to you.
But I sat waiting..
And to whom do you pour yourself into?
The ones I could use a drink from...
Oh, you rob away my dream, mister.
So I can lie awake and make believe,
and you widen your face as I give you your drama.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem