Far above the streetlight glare I'm staring out and waiting... knowing your shadow Though your black umbrella dims my veiw I know it's you. Make-up, run down, not caused by the rain. Did you see me up here? Have you seen me before? but then you stop, untouched and refrained My fingers press upon the empty scene stained by love before my being. I can hear your footsteps echo, slowly beating out the night. And there you are, washing away the contents of the road, withering down.... my lovely rose Looking up, the hanging glass above my life, Waiting for sudden movement. Can you see the hanging glass dropping down in pieces between the breeze?