When we were kissing under your umbrella...
In another country, where grey loomed among us,
Tears so lonely and isolated and a-lingering...
So perfect yet out of place on your cheek.
The back stairwell and a kiss,
Standing there where no-one else ever had:
wet lips...
And someone is standing at the edge of a dark grey river,
And theyre throwing in coins.
And someone is starting to row across
From much too far away.