It's 4.17a.m. I'm motionless the landing
Dark. It's 4.18a.m. you've got one wish
Left almost real as the gull-cry flew from your mouth
Into mine, you wrap your left leg around my blue
Shadow no one-off "thing" you can cut and paste
Your own amusement in the photograph beaming
Away, this is our story melting, higher up. It's 4.18a.m.