blunt smoke veils rise up...'

yellow light in some room, out of this one, 3 feet of this room melted in gold,

get up from the bed covered in gray,

the rain patters against the pane, and dribbles down, tears from a mother

or a heart that yearns,...clouds of dreams emerge from my mouth..

it wont climb the pane back up, time slips through the pane in tears...

i jus wish i had her hand to hold, wet perspirations, moans of giving her heart away,

o that scent of her, the comforting, warm scent...