Pacing through the flickering light. A velvet patch upon his eye. His pacing creaks the floorboards loose. As he tailors his thoughts for the truth around truths. But his butler keeps eyes
Slow down Henry, imagine for a while. That this life is all that you have. Clean out your office and pack up all your bags. I don't think that she'll understand. That your love is here with this
Henry Kissinger, how I'm missing yer. You're the doctor of my dreams. With your crinkly hair and your glassy stare. And your Machiavellian schemes All right so people say that you don't care. But
