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Astrid, do you recall the Sundays at the Spa with double straws from a |
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carton with a heart on. Who could ask for more? You'd assure me you'd |
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support me as I tried to write that novel in the hovel we called home (OUR |
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home). You'd mow the lawn you'd pay the bills. You touched me there. The |
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Shock of Contact kept us warm. |
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And Astrid, you kept your word, you never said a word, as I ripped up the |
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pages, spent your wages, entertaining friends you hated, making bombs and |
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planting them in galleries. Your salary was wasted (oh how criminal)... |
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They cut the power, they pulled the plugs - they took away the phone. |
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We're quite alone. We share a candle in the cellar - oooh you touched me |
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there. The shock of contact kept us warm. |
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And Astrid, as sure as blue skies always turn to grey - they came with |
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guns. I tried to run and you took all the blame. They took you and I never |
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said a word - and now you never say a word as I lean through the bars. I |
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whisper my apologies, oh Jezus you stare clean through me. You cut me |
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down, I touch you there.. The shock of contact keeps me warm. |
