The Light

All can talk about love Ev-ery-one has love no love the same rock, tree, cloud, Sea, vegetable field, like moss, My friend, Henry Woz sitting in a creaky chair On a desk stained with ink stains to write poetry thoughts, landscapes, and Take out the past days from the drawer To the girl who has no way to meet After writing her a letter With saliva left over from the first kiss Like when put a stamp on an envelope, love doesn't shine in the dark love does not long for the light love is rolling with the dark Until the darkness has nowhere to go.