Think of me lyingNext to youIn your bedThink of me when you drinkYour warm coffeeThink of meWhen you read kindRomantic wordsThink of me in every love sceneYou watch in a movieThink of me when you cryAnd think of meWhen you write

Dear god, it seems that I find it now easier to answer to the smell of booze and cheap women than good faith and common sense.

I’d watched that girl hold onto a lot of things, but not quite like she held onto a bottle of wine.

I find pieces of herIn songs, book quotes,Even in the dismal cornersOf macabre streetsHosting nobody exceptFailed men and women

Tonight I will sleep in my bedKnowing she has landedSomewhere far from hereBut in my mindWe are still sitting in that small cocktail boothMy hand holding hersOur hearts connectedAnd me WhisperingIn her ear:WhereverYouGo,GoWith allYour heart

Through drunken holinessI still heard your voice

And I’d like to thinkShe’ll be holding my hand againAnd whispering to me:It’s aLongLife,We’reNotDoneYet

Love is the small repetitive kissesI drew all over you faceWhile your cold handsFound refuge in mine

I was in loveWith every part of herThe partsI knewAnd the partsI didn’t