Over the nostalgia I will sing my song
It is well
It is well with my soul
So that the sun will shine
And fine
Yes I will be fine with my nostalgic
Melancholic, drooling, superlative
Nostalgic. Purposive
And full of the mercies the years have called out to us
For it is all over;
Over the nostalgia.
That they said in that land I will forget
That they told of the lies that a new breeze carries on its wings
Over the nostalgia that they told
Of nostalgic, melancholic
Drooling and superlative
Nostalgia. I will not forget
For it is over; quite
Over the nostalgia
“Do it for the family.”
“Daddy will be dancing in his grave for you.”
How this they told it to me
And shielded me
And my nostalgia
My nostalgic, melancholic
Phlegmatic yet evasive nostalgia
Torn between the thought and the urge
For it is over; not quite
Over the nostalgia.
But how do I forget to share the moments?
How do I forget to relive the soft, tender
Melancholic yet phlegmatic sensation
Of soft and sweet feel of your lips
Buried. Married. Glued to mine.
For it is over; quite
Over the nostalgia.
That the hurt of solitude
Sparks my heart of the memories of our days
Of our days together
Holding hands
Sipping on ice and biting into ice cream like babies
I’ve slept in your alms and dressed your hair
But now I’m nostalgic
Melancholic yet phlegmatic
For it is over; surely
Over my nostalgia over you.