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Before The Dawn Falls The Dew

Tags: love

Whispering, it was the age of reasoning, but who was I deceiving
Alone without a prayer, a hymnal, or song to sing  
As I stumbled to the microwave to heat last night's coffee
On this Monday morning before the dawn falls the dew  

I'd been a fool with my profane and liquored-down soul
Swilling down the redeye as you gave me your love
But all I ask is forgiveness for this old broken fool
Because on Mondays is when I feel the blues

Walking softly across memories as you sleep in your place
And the heavenly face of an Angel's Sanctorum where you prayed
On this Monday morning before the dawn falls the dew
Feeling stoned, before the teapot mellowed your voice

Whispering, it was the age of reasoning, but who was I deceiving   
In the shadows of the Yew, the tree of the dead
Because even drunks can come in from the dark
When the petals fall from the bottle of Four Roses

If you will only give me a sigh, before the Weathervane flies  
Pointed east where you now cry
And the eyes of Monday grant me a rocking chair
So that I can keep you company as you lay neath the loam

 

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