Andalous Windstorm
I saw you in my room last night
and you always used to grow cold
when you felt the ceiling fan cool your skin
I remembered when we used to talk
and share our memories
You of morocco
and mine of a morocco that never was
I had a wedding dress on and I was standing
somewhere in a hallway in Marrakesh
You had that life and you lost it
I never got that life and lost it as well.
I can smell the smoke of flames gone past
and songs never sung
And I loved you that December
Even though you were never mine
Cruel but innocent man with a face so soft
I never lost you my Moroccan cause I never
possessed you
But that's what made you so pretty
lying but honest heart thief
Copyright © Kathleen Woolrich | Year Posted 2005
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