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C'mon

de The Russian Futurists

When our love was born,
The Earth was torn
By such things

We rang out like horns
On Austrian morns
In the spring

The sounds that we made
Endlessly fade
Like a curse

And now you and the wine
Have become intertwined
And that's worse

We wasted our youth
On dramatic half-truths
That were wrong

But the warmth of the sun
Was keeping us young
For so long

And with this next line,
Everything's fine
In the end:

There are increments of time
So complex and refined
That they bend

The whole summer grieves,
We're watching the leaves
As they fall

And you're violin strings
And wonderful things
For us all

And you and the wine
Have become intertwined
And that's worse

Than trying to find
A part of a mind's
Dying verse

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