Still In Love

 

 

Lovers leave their traces like jets across the sky

They find in others’  faces lines they recognise

My keepsakes have their places -

At the back of a drawer or slipped between pages and stuck on a shelf

 

But I’m still in love with nothing but myself

 

Yeah, sometimes I remember the way they signed their names

And always in December I feel some kind of shame

The heart it stays so tender -

I reminisce like a hangman wishing his prisoners well

 

But I’m still in love with nothing but myself

 

I know their mothers’ ages

I know all the stories so well

And I know I’ll see their faces in hell

 

So wipe away their traces, blow the dust off from the shelf

‘Cos I’m still in love

With nothing but myself