Sunday, 14 June 2009

and i’ll soon forget what was never there
your words are ash and dust
all that’s left is the song i’ve sung
the breath i’ve taken and the one i must

if you’re born with a love for the wrote and the writ
people of letters your warning stands clear
pay heed to your heart and not to your wit
don’t say in a letter what you can’t in my ear

(visual beauty: google)
i love love love love love his voice, its exquisite

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