I
Had prepared myself long time
ran through it in my mind
What I would say (to you)
I
spit-polished shoes of mine
Knotted anyhow my tie
Till the door was opened
And all I kept inside
By the draft was blown up
I
Thought I’d read it in your eyes
And you would - in mine
Instead that silent query
Why
Then all those sweet letters, why?
With “hi!” and no “goodbyes”
I don’t get it
So this song’s deprived
Of refrain’s pleasance
And who will screw in a bulb in your room
Or hammer in a nail to hang your shelf with books
Or even carry all your heavy bags from store
All by your own
A keen woman
© Copyright: Фридрих Зазнанский, 2023
Свидетельство о публикации №123041103374
Свидетельство о публикации №123041103374
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