All days are nights

I'm just the words, looking for the tune

Nothing else matters

I want to lie down on a bed of roses

Janey +Muni=Lonely

I just want to lie down on a bed of red roses...

While my guitar gently weeps

My heart aches, when my guitar gently weeps.

and I am arrested by you

Please set me free

Song: Memory, hither come--William Blake

Memory, hither come,

And tune your merry notes;

And, while upon the wind

Your music floats,

I'll pore upon the stream

Where sighing lovers dream,

And fish for fancies as they pass

Within the watery glass.

I'll drink of the clear stream,

And hear the linnet's song;

And there I'll lie and dream

The day along:

And, when night comes, I'll go

To places fit for woe,

Walking along the darken'd valley

With silent Melancholy.

White Bee by Pablo Neruda

White bee, you buzz in my soul, drunk with honey

and your flight winds in slow spirals of smoke.

I am the one without hope, the word without echoes,

he who lost everything and he who had everything.

Last hawser, in you creaks my last longing.

In my barren land you are the final rose.

Ah you who are silent!

Let your deep eyes close. There the night flutters.

Ah your body, a frightened statue, naked.

You have deep eyes in which the night flails.

Cool arms of flowers and a lap of rose.

Your breasts seem like white snails.

A butterfly of shadow has come to sleep on your belly.

Ah you who are silent!