The sense that love is coming's worse
Than love itself. Love is like war -
You've come together, eye to eye.
You're with her - nothing more in store.
The approach of love is like a storm:
You feel a dampness in your pores
But still it's calm - the piano's sound
Can yet be heard beyond the doors.
Yet the barometer goes down;
The pressure's falling through the floor,
And in your fear of God knows what,
Too late to cling on to the shore!
No, worse than that. It's like a trench:
You sit and wait the word to start
And not far off, another waits
To put a bullet through your heart.