we were born   through thunderstorms   she smells like autumn gold   she grins another mystery   and wins some control   her head and skin is oxygen   fireflies in flame   i make another joke and hope   it hides the lovesick shame   she breathes for me   she teases me   she's close enough to taste   well, no one wants to be alone in april   her lonesome lover bedroom sigh   could make me cry tonight   as we drink   think of better times   in this cemetary light      ooh...