The music that’s so sad and bleak
Was playing in our little garden.
There was a flavour of the sea
From frozen oysters on a platter.
He said to me: “I’m loyal friend!”,
He gently touched my pretty dress.
Oh how the touch of his hands
Ain’t really similar to an embrace.
Like cats and birds are usually touched,
The way horsewomen are admired...
There was a laugh in his calm eyes
And his eyelashes shined so bright.
But violins’ voices in the smoke
Were singing one distressful tune:
«Bless heaven that first time of all
Here’s only your sweetheart and you.»
