A warm breeze drifts across the window sill. As moonlight slants through a night so still. Oh, I have held you in my dreams. And how real it always seems.
Well, I never walked a night so dark. I guess the moon has blown a fuse. Muffled anger leaks from a second story window. Sounds like somebody giving somebody the blues.
(J. Lyon/S. Skinner). . We're born to live and we're born to die. You're somewhere in between and I'm not sure why. Sleeping on a heat vent, eating what you find.