glad i didn't die before i met you

I have lost a telephonewith your smell in itI am living beside the radioall the stations at oncebut I pick out a Polish lullabyI pick it out of the staticit fades I wait I keep the beatit comes back almost alseepDid you take the telephoneknowing I'd sniff it immoderatelymaybe heat up the plasticto get all the crumbs of your breathand if you won't come backhow will you phone to sayyou won't come