December man, you who made the silent turn from the Rosemary of youth
to the place where exiled hearts sleep.
The skies mysterious benediction with heresies of purple.
The noon of a dreadful day that knows that January will never come again.
December man, you who made the silent turn from the Rosemary of youth
to the place where exiled hearts sleep.
The skies mysterious benediction with heresies of purple.
The noon of a dreadful day that knows that January will never come again.