Terrace
One of soft summer evenings is fading and passers go by
Cappuccino in hand and a cig, you relax in delight
Sick and happy you sit, and it must be your favorite style
Or at least that's the way I remember the terrace at night
I'm a Don Quixote's sword, broken down to pieces in hopeless attack
You're a daughter of time from a windmill of fair solitude
We touched on some topics but the one most essential we lack
But we smoked it together, when silence was looking quite good
Cappuccinos and smiles jumbled up in cubistic galore
All our sorries and thank you’s swirl rounds, dancing over the mall
Sudden windflaw blows off paper tissues, and slams the back door
Time to go, leaving crumbles and ash, I bet you’ve said it all.
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