The eloquence of the frosted dew on the pink rose...
The grit in the murky soil within which it sits is...

You unknowingly pinch the salty drops from my...
But I know, I feel them staining my cheeks...

The condensation runs down the window pane,
Blindness does not recognize...

Walking in the sunny air,
I see your friendly face...

He kicks the lonely pebble along the grey yard,
His hands in his pockets, he is weary and tired...

You used to tell me all was well,
You gave me love, you gave me hell...

I remember when I first saw you,
Running down that beach...