The house seems solid ,weight and gravitas
Wallpaper and pictures  of our choice
It is no stronger than a blade of grass

The  furniture is  mixed  but it will pass
As long as cats   don’t rip it with their claws
The house seems solid ,grams and gravitas

Gone the inkstand with the  heavy glass
Now we use  cheap biros, our envoys.
What is stronger than a blade of grass?

Who would now care if I cleaned the brass?
Women see the dust  ,does it annoy?
The house seems solid ,weight and gravitas

After I am dead, all this is trash
Noone wants to play with others’ toys
Love is stronger than a blade of grass.

I haunt my house, I never hear a voice
Except the television  I employ
The house seems solid ,weight and gravitas
It is no stronger than a blade of grass

He rang me up ,  oh what a diatribe
I am the monster dwelling in the deep
I feel lucky still to be alive

He raved,he ranted,  did  our worlds collide?
I am the evil witch , he gets the creeps
He rang me up ,  oh what a diatribe

I hope the Lord will not with him abide
I relive  the tumult  in my sleep
I feel lucky  that I am  alive.

I know I ought to take   him in my stride.
If only my  knee joints had never creaked.
He rang me up , what is a diatribe?

I went to Southport just to take a ride
Do the donkeys  on the sands still speak?
I feel  blessed  that I am  now alive.

I know many people that will  shriek
As we  rarely see a duck when we feel bleak
He rang me up ,  oh what a diatribe
I  think he has a  monkey in his mind

His voice caressed me as we sat alone
As tender as a dove, as felt as song
But he has gone and I ‘m inert as stone

His voice was mellow even when he phoned
Did I fail him,did I  do him wrong?
His voice caressed me as we sat alone

Sometimes I see his face , let out a moan
Where is he and where do I belong
For he has gone and I ‘m inert as stone

After him, I dwelled with the unknown
No voice, no word, no  greeting ,silence hung
His  memory  flutters   in my mind alone

If I did him wrong, may I atone?
May I confess my sin by writing  songs?
For he has gone and I ‘m inert as stone

Oh, you  angels, may I learn your tongue?
For  his love my little heart still longs
His voice caressed me as we  nestled close
But he has gone ,I wonder does he know?

 

 

Richard Zimler’s book are very fine
The Warsaw Anagarm, I love the best
I wish that we could meet to drink or dine

If my book were paper,I’d draw lines
Underneath  the sentences I’d rest
Richard Zimler’s book are very fine

Back  up North, we  ate our meal at noon
I don’t intend this sentence  as a test
I wish that we could meet to drink  good wine

Imagination, tenderness ,aligned
If only  men would kill each other less
Yet Richard Zimler’s book are very fine

The sorrow and the love, the feeling signs
My heart so moved ,I felt in in my breast
I wish that we could meet to drink  good wine

To lack of  feeling,I was once resigned
My heart blew open  when it was the time
Richard Zimler’s book are very fine
I wisht we  all could meet to drink or dine