Rosemary - Cloud Rat

I have made a little promise

It’s the light, the shoulder blades too sharp to touch

I put on my best clothes and spin around and around

I draw his image in the dirt in my bed

Not far away, but too far to touch

To feel your final fever;

To measure every gain and every loss;

Reaping what you sow;

so what?

You will ride separate rails to the end