One, two,
one, two, two, four.
Two,
two, four.
Golden rose,
that close quarter,
she goes quietly.
Air and steam in her pockets.
It's night and we're stars in the jewel,
while safely in bed.
Wrapped up in dreams like pressies.
Tick tock, time is up.
With
bad weather friends,
and all the odds and ends.
When perfect person sentiment,
another you,
I wonder where it went.
Play it over again.
Just like a star up beside the hour spot.
Shivering from icy coldness.
A streetcar goes by,
but a soul inside us denies.
Turn slowly into morning.
Tick tock, time is up.
Hot in its many deepest ways.
I argue in its case.
When perfect person sentiment,
another you, I wonder where it went.
Play it over again.