the night is her lover, and they've had a fight
and she fought so hard, and morning is always right
harsh, insistent, ever so bright
the night so elusive, it hardly stays
and that is the morning's only complaint
how can we make this work, she says
whenever I come around, you slink away.
and when my morning, has seen no night
my world turns bleary,
my head turns heavy
my heart is wounded, so easily
my eyes they cry, at touch at sight
all so sensitive, my morning's had a fight.
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