Sraid an Chloig

'Tisn't often I think of you these days
But today on your birthday
I miss the record of your voice
With its one-track of complaining
And your second-hand heart
With its torn cover
The closed collection of your feelings

I waited ten minutes on the street of the clock
Counting minute by minute
Grudgingly, stuck upedly marching past me
On high heels, on clock street

The rain plays a tear-tune
That calls for words
And my throat choked with a cold
There isn't a note in my head
And oh my heart of the one tune
With its athletic fingers
Here we go again with the learning season

I waited ten minutes on the street of the clock
Counting minute by minute
Grudgingly, stuck upedly marching past me
On high heels, on clock street