Bottle on the Sea, Needle in the Hay

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Will such a love I find one day
like a bottle on the sea or a needle in the hay?
I wish I could say that I’ll give up,
but I have nothing left to give.
I wish I would say that I’ll make up,
but there is nothing left to make.
Hold my hand sweet sun of summer,
spare me from that winter drummer
beating on the quaking winds;
a day, a moment, an end.
It’s not so much that I want it, need it,
I just want to know I could have it, heed it.

Will such a love I lose one day
at the bottom of the sea or a barrow full of hay?
I wish I could say that I’ll wake up,
but I haven’t sleep in a lifetime or two.
I wish I would say that I’ll break up,
but I have been broken for a lifetime like you.
Kiss my lips soft winds of autumn,
as springtime drags me to the bottom
of eternal pits of sunshine;
a day, a moment, a line.
It’s not so much that I crave it, seek it,
I just need the words so I can say it, speak it.

Pianos play with broken notes and harps with broken strings…
with violins, find my way in, to the place where bells ever ring.

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