here I am
drinking tea on the moon
counting backwards
and dreaming of you
why am I so afraid
to drop you a line
to call
even if it were right
it would be all wrong
all we have
is all we have
lip-locked amazement
some kind of strange love
existing in some other world
we can’t touch
here I stay
drinking tea on the moon
counting backwards
and dreaming of you
The white moon hangs full o’er distant traces My wannabe dreams cast by elation And so we were in two different places Most of the
Alone i choose the ra’dio of my heart Picking up echoes of your distant song In cracks of thunder five seconds apart The rolling trains
Step out of your crisp blue winter evening and into the wild swing of Archibald Motley Jr.’s Nightlife; a vivid portrayal of the hip nocturnal
