in the morning, we'll wake to the sound of the neighbors and we'll curse and we'll blame and we'll call them funny names you will cover your eyes from the morning light with your shirt and think of the grasshopper warming the dirt and as we will lay, be reminded of the day by the noises of footsteps and the slamming of doors and the drilling and sawing of the workers under our bed we'll ignore and make love to the roar of their- ooo. in the nighttime we'll study the sounds of our voices and learn the scents to which we have been drawn I'll not open my eyes 'cause I've not slept for days or is it I'm blind by the beauty in your face? we'll trust to our fingers to feel in the darkness to trace and define all the shapes we desire we will seek and discover just how close we can get to each other and I'll wait for your new eyes to meet mine again our sheets will be made of some fine, hand-woven cotton ironed and spread across a king-size bed frame their colors will reflect the seasons that've passed us by though no weariness stained will reflect in our eyes though if we should tire of our lives in the bedroom and make from the kitchen, through the hall, to the door and if should choose to explore together or alone I'll remember the days when the bed was our homeTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
