these circumstances these days of the week i ll pick them up fold them in make them origami til words form within and give me something to sing boats trains aeroplanes i ll take anything these sweet pieces of love s etiquette spoil my appetite and make me forget can t find the hole that enabled the fall can t find the quarters to make sense of it all when you were blind i wrote a letter in braille thinking that you would take it as just everyday mail i carved out a solider wounded laid on a cot in quotes he asked you why it was that you shot you left me looking for sunday comfort on a monday afternoon