I Had No More Alphabet

But When I Call For A Hero, Out Comes My Lazy Old Self; So I Never Know Who I Am, Nor How Many I Am Or Will Be. I'd Love To Be Able To Touch A Bell And Summon The Real Me, Because If I Really Need Myself, I Mustn't Disappear.

I Like On The Table, When We're Speaking, The Light Of A Bottle Of Intelligent Wine.

The Road Made Wet By The Water Of August Shines Like It Was Cut In Full Moonlight

So I Wait For You Like A Lonely House Till You Will See Me Again And Live In Me. Till Then My Windows Ache.

I Want To Do To You What Spring Does With The Cherry Trees.