(kirsty maccoll). . Darling. While the firelight is low. I'm disappearing. Like the last day of the snow. And really, it's better this way. We both know it's over.
Maybe it's imaginary, I'd like to know. What's the world coming to and where will it go?. The hole in the sky where the sunshine gets in. It dries up the land as it mucks up your skin.