Gib mir Zeit, mich anzuziehen.
We were bound to grow apart from the start. You went away but I came to see, what had come around. I waited for the time, you waited for the last moment. I felt rushed but you were clam just like you had all the world’s time in your pocket.
You pinned me down, I let you back door me into oblivion ( of all my pain caused by waiting). I managed to have a slight ‘I love you’ dream as we slept side by side. When I woke you up from your paper thin sleep you spooned me into door to door bliss. I smolder in it for the whole ride on the nearly missed quicken bus ride to the MAX, then onto the red eye flight back to Doomland.
Time has pasted & we can never see it through.
It is time’s like these that we must consult the classics:
Hast du etwas Zeit für mich
Dann singe ich ein Lied für dich
Von 99 Luftballons
Auf ihrem Weg zum Horizont
Denkst du vielleicht g’rad an mich
Dann singe ich ein Lied für dich
Von 99 Luftballons
Und dass so was von so was kommt
You were clam
You were clam
And you spooned me just like jam
So I nearly missed your quicken
And without you I will sicken
But you’re pasted now and I’m your leg of lamb.
“Love is a snowmobile that capsizes, trapping you beneath. At night, the ice weasels come.” – Nietzsche
Late love= tardiness. I think your lover was trying to sabotage the bus/MAX/train trip.
I dig the posts above 1,2, 3
Germans….ugh. Doomland? Munich?
Germany macht spass! Ich liebe Deutchland.