There are things I haven't told you yet,
Have I told you?
That with you, the crowded streets
Seem alleys of fallen leaves;
My feet brush against those fallen
And my arms brush against those falling;
Slowly, slowly,
Ochre leaves, sunny leaves;
No clamor, no noise;
Only the songs of birds
And cracks of fallen leaves;
With you by my side,
Your hand in mine,
I walk, carefree

Have I ever told you?
That with you beside
My agony days would smile
And shy away,
As the warmth of your breath
Melts my dire past,
And it runs down my cheeks,
Slowly, slowly;
Haunted past, twisted past;
No joy, no glee;
Only the din of doubts
And murky shrieks,
But with you lying beside
And your head on my heart,
I fall and rise, carefree