Ant McNaught

Kisses so sweet,
sweeter than wine,
on the lips of the woman
I called mine.
 
Breath so soft,
a breeze divine,
on the lips of the woman
that I called mine.
 
On that lonesome day,
so cold and gray,
how could I stand so still
as you walked away?
How could I have no words
to make you stay?
 
Voice so gentle
and words so kind,
from the lips of the woman
that I called mine.
 
Sighs that echo
through my time
on the lips of the woman
that I called mine.
 
On that lonesome day,
so cold and gray,
how could I stand so still
as you walked away?
How could I have no words
to make you stay?