For My Friend

William Blake and I
Had a lunch date
Last October at Buvette:

Scrambled eggs for me,
Only coffee in a teacup
For my friend.

What we talked about
It escapes me -
Something surely of account!

But I can't forget how his
Hand felt on my shoulder,
As we talked.



Credits
Writer(s): Paul Sauerteig
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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