I have tried in my way to be free.
I almost went to bed without remembering the four white violets I put in the button-hole of your green sweater and how i kissed you then and you kissed me shy as though I’d never been your lover
Well I am the one who loves changing from nothing to one.
A heavy burden lifted from my soul, I heard that love was out of my control.
He knew that hair couldn't feel; he kissed her hair.
Your servant here, he has been told to say it clear, to say it cold: It's over, it ain't going any further And now the wheels of heaven stop you feel the devil's riding crop Get ready for the future: it is murder