Pink Bullets

I was just bony hands as cold as a winder pole You held a warm stone out new flowing blood to hold Oh what a contrast you were To the brutes in the halls My timid young fingers held a decent animal Over the ramparts you tossed The scent of your skin and some foreign flowers Tied to a brick, sweet as a song The years have been short but the days were long Cool of a temperate breeze from dark skies to wet grass We fell in a field, it seems now a thousand summers passed When our kite lines first crossed We tied them into knots And to finally fly apart we had to cut them off Since then it's been a book you read in reverse So you understand less as the pages turn Or a movie so crass and awkwardly cast That even I could be the star I don't look back much as a rule And all this way before murder was cool But your memory is here and I'd like it to stay Warm light on a winter's day Over the ramparts you tossed The scent of your skin and some foreign flowers Tied to a brick, sweet as a song The years have seemed short but the days go slowly by Two loose kites falling from the sky Drawn to the ground and an end to flight