Toward the end of the day clouds drift in

I must now shut windows and draw curtains

Still hangovered, I tilt the glass and pour in some more gin

The world spin, the western winds fan. I think it might rain

I have all intentions to forget you

But I’m too listless and devastated to weep; mutely, I sit on bed and sigh.

Thunder and showers beat against the ground, gradually I start to rue

At this hour my feelings are hard, my heart is in disarray.  I must now on pillow lie.

What is this between us that is best describe in grief?

Look, look the whole land is strewn with fallen leafs



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