You wrote your name on a paper and gave it to me; for years in my pocket where no-one could see. How can I change the way that I felt? I slipped the paper in the pocket of somebody else. Won't you teach me to bear you? Someone with matches; someone with bronze; someone with blue eyes to gaze upon. Your name, your whole story, your whole life to see. The story you had given to me. Won't you teach me to bear you? I want to read you a life of parties and wisdom, of care and explosions and wild summer eves... but my hands are empty, and my throat cracked and drawn, because I gave away the name you gave to me. Yes I sang away the name you gave to me.