Here I am. Hardly. And yet I am.
This woman I love, beyond words. And now talk is cheap.
(You know)
I need her hand, still and gentle, on my forehead. As usual.
I need her words of love. I need her tenderness. As usual.
I need to sleep beside her. At last.
Otherwise thinking is a thing of the past.
Otherwise there is no other wisdom I can talk to you about.
I've grown old lately.
