You took me on top of a mountain A bald and treeless height And urged me to take a photograph Tired and old, weathered and wise It's neither far nor forever away But hours, surely hours And surely not today And developed on my skin A clear, discerning portrait Of what i haven't seen since then That disappear when i begin to descend And i must confess that sometimes I roll down my sleeve To cover up your nameprint And enshroud my disbelief But reverie approaches on evenings like this And she pulls all my nerves out from in between my ribs And she gnaws on their bodies but ends her love with a kiss