The Little Death
The length of a gaspOn a late summer evening
The angels went first
And their faces stained white
I think that it's too late
To admit to you that I'm hurting
With my dying heart
And my memories stained white
If they lose me, know that I'll be yours,
And nestled in his arms, death with cradle us
Because if they lose me,
It's only so I stay yours
And nestled in his arms, death with cradle us
The rain runs down my temples
The lightning is singing your descent
Huddled up against my life
Your laugh resounds and then flees
I think that it's too late
To admit to you that I'm hurting
My heart is not like it was before
Because it softly falls asleep
