I recall how we lived. On the corner of a bed. And we'd speak of the Swedish room. Of hessian and wood. And we'd talk with our eyes. Of the sweetness in our lives. And tomorrows of rich surprise.... Some things we could do. In our madness. We burnt one hundred days. Time takes time to pass. And I still hold some ashes to me. An Occasional Dream. And we'd sleep oh so close. But not really close our eyes. Tween the sheets of summer bathed in blue.... Gently weeping nights. It was long long ago. And I still can't touch your name. For the days of fate were strong for you.... Danced you far from me. In my madness. I see your face in mine. I keep a photograph. It burns my wall with time. Time. An Occasional Dream. Of mine. An Occasional Dream. Of mine. An Occasional Dream. Of mine