Pink bullets

I was just bony hands as cold as a winder pole
You held a warm stone out new flowing blood to hold
Oh what a contrast you were
To the brutes in the halls
My timid young fingers held a decent animal

Over the ramparts you tossed
The scent of your skin and some foreign flowers
Tied to a brick, sweet as a song
The years have been short but the days were long

Cool of a temperate breeze from dark skies to wet grass
We fell in a field, it seems now a thousand summers passed
When our kite lines first crossed
We tied them into knots
And to finally fly apart we had to cut them off

Since then it's been a book you read in reverse
So you understand less as the pages turn
Or a movie so crass and awkwardly cast
That even I could be the star I don't look back much as a rule
And all this way before murder was cool
But your memory is here and I'd like it to stay
Warm light on a winter's day

Over the ramparts you tossed
The scent of your skin and some foreign flowers
Tied to a brick, sweet as a song
The years have seemed short but the days go slowly by
Two loose kites falling from the sky
Drawn to the ground and an end to flight