Rain scent and the fog floats, piercing windowpane, into me.
Soaked in haze I have a drunkard’s delusions: You confess erotic.
I know you loved me but you didn’t love me well. The fog in me.
Rain storm, ice storm, I don’t care, coat in the trash heap, I’m free.
Leafless branches whip the wind, magnolia’s death from winter’s narcotic.
Rain scent and the fog floats, piercing windowpane, into me.
Bewitched once, beguiled twice, fog thickens, I can’t see
Into you. Desire courses my veins and a fable, they’re hypnotic.
I know you loved me but you didn’t love me well. The fog in me.
I took them, when the side streets were offered to me
Where I stayed withdrawn from main street’s narcotic.
Rain scent and the fog floats, piercing windowpane, into me.
The sky a grey pearl, daffodil hasn’t bloomed, spring’s absentee.
Dead-end paths and dead-end questions, the cradle of a neurotic.
I know you loved me but you didn’t love me well. The fog in me.
I want to sting you with the venom of a queen honeybee.
Enter a patch of milk fog. I am there, discard your coat. We are gothic.
Rain scent and the fog floats, piercing windowpane, into me.
I know you loved me but you didn’t love me well. The fog in me.
