Maybe it was a cloud In your eyes the sky became grey Mine are mistaken For it surely wasn't a tear The sky is blue Your eyes shrink like blue jeans My eyes ache They have both dried out Maybe it was a dream Maybe my brain is tumble-dried and emptied Washed out and washed up Otherwise I would have never forgotten Maybe I have a shell A hard impenetrable beetle shell Of outgrown clothes A little child who can reach the ceiling Why can't I get myself into your blue jeans
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