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