Roger Waters


With a glass inlaid with gemstones
On a pool around the evening
Among the perfumed roses
Wait for her
With the patience of a packhorse loaded for the mountains
Like a stoic, noble prince
Wait for her
With seven pillows laid out on the stair
The scent of women's incense fills the air
Be calm, and wait for her
And do not flush the sparrows that are nesting in her braids
All along the barricades
Wait for her
And if she comes soon
Wait for her
And if she comes late
Wait
Let her be still as a summer afternoon
A garden in full bloom
Let her breathe in the air that is foreign to her heart
Let her lips part
Wait for her
Take her to the balcony, see the moon soaked in milk
Hear the rustle of her silk
Wait for her
Don't let your eyes alight upon the twin doves of her breast
Lest they take flight
Wait for her
And if she comes soon
Wait for her
And if she comes late
Wait
Wait
Serve her water before wine
Do not touch her hand
Let your fingertips rest at her command
Speak softly as a flute would to a fearful violin
Breathe out
Breathe in
And as the echo fades from that final fusillade
Remember the promises you made

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