n°2 rosa

Midnight afternoon.

Morning comes 

but not to soon.  

We are separated, vampires in our nightly wear,

I'm no longer happy there. 

Rosa, Rosa, Rosa, where is my heart? 

Rosa, Rosa, Rosa, where are my arms?

Morning, morning, morning will wake me up cold.

Mourning, mourning, mourning

reminds me that I'm getting cold. 

Grimes