You see that spring is being late this year.

It happens every time when you’re not here.

My claws are harmless since I’m wearing gloves.

My jokes are shut and inoffensive too.

I thought I’d write a song about love,

But saic I lied: it’s still about you.

I’m not that frank. That’s matter of my breeding.

But should I bare my wounds when heart was bleeding?

I’d better hide behind ambiguous rhymes

And skip temptations I was passing through.

I thought I’d write a song about time,

But saic I lied: it’s still about you.

My yearning turns me to a faithful waiter.

I learn to be your distant venerator

Your dreams are strange and hard to oversee...

Your way is just a riddle with no clue.

I thought I’d write a song about me,

But saic I lied: it’s still about you.

30 Mar 2019