your face is fond and feeling like a siren sigh
the colours on the counterpane on which I'll die
slowly, show more vivid as the wet leaves dry
and the shadow on the second hand has passed us by
our love is like a bloody balm that spreads along the floor
but time and other memories are seeping by the door
stop this moment beaching on the silent shore
and the shadow on the second hand has cut me to the core
time takes a while to wend it's way
my youth was almost spent before I knew what day
it was, the hours that filled my slim ideals are slipping far away
and the shadow on the second hand has gone from blue to grey
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