DRESS IV

YOUR COLD CHEEK

No one disturbs the earth upon my cheek

Come find me now, it’s been almost a week

And all the while we get buried in our lives.

Don’t forget me now, I look just like your wife

 

Any you bought petrol station bouquets for me

And you cold cheek is turning like page

 

All night your face returns

To the roadside your face returns

 

Your cold cheek collecting dew

Your cold cheek all soft and bruised

Your cold cheek like damp paper

Your cold cheek barely come of age

 

All night your face returns

To the roadside your face returns

 

A grassy glade and old plantation pines

When you came for me I opened up the skies

Your cold hand upon my bruised cheek

Will you still think of me come Sunday week

 

All night the blue light turns

By the roadside your face returns

By the roadside

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