The Somnabulist

Where do you go to darling,
When your love is lost;
Floating in a leaf boat,
Down a quarry fringed with quartz.

Take me back to the morning,
The light in which we met,
Your hair was all honey,
We spoke of dying and the dead.

Where do you go to darling,
With your faded rag doll;
She said one time too many,
“Go ahead, take it all”.

Kindly you offer your hands,
To the somnabulist lost to the sea;
You knew her when she was all honey,
What if, its not you she needs.

What if, its you she needs.

What if its you she needs.

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