live for a moment like a blouse hanging on the clothesline on a sunny day so hot that you're drying up so fast

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how funny it is, that singing is not something foreign; not to you nor me;

we could talk about the songs, the conductors, the times, the melodies;

but it just never happened; singing at the same time and place

it was here and there, in and out, hello and goodbye,

but/and maybe it's all meant to be

even though it's rather pointless,

and it wouldn't matter much really;

thought just came to mind casually-

how nice christmas caroling would be if you were next to me

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