You wrote your name on a paper and gave it to me; for years in my pocket where no-one could see. How can I change the way that I felt? I slipped the paper in the pocket of somebody else. Won�t you teach me to bear you? Someone with matches; someone with bronze; someone with blue eyes to gaze upon. Your name, your whole story, your whole life to see. The story you had given to me. Won�t you teach me to bear you? I want to read you a life of parties and wisdom, of care and explosions and wild summer eves...but my hands are empty, and my throat cracked and drawn, because I gave away the name you gave to me. Yes I sang away the name you gave to me.
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