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That Last Night Those magic days and nights spent in your sad little room with wine and beer and song and laughter they seem impossible to me now and I suppose they are your body bathed in candlelight and the feel of it against my own was just something else to take for granted something else not to believe in and that last night you pacing about the floor with wine and cigarettes me on the balcony staring across rooftops trying hard to think about nothing much at all you said I was a fool for not loving you and even then I knew you were right though I didn’t say so at the time or maybe I did sometimes it’s hard to remember. |