Turn where the stairs bend
In this other house; statued in other light,
Allow the host to ease you from your coat.
Stand where the stairs bend,
A formal distance from me, then descend
With delicacy conscious but not false
And take my arm, as if I were someone else.
Tonight, in a strange room
We will be strangers: let our eyes be blind
To all our customary stances –
Remark how well I’m groomed,
I will explore your subtly-voiced nuances
Where delicacy is conscious but not false,
And take your hand, as if you were someone else.
Home forgotten, rediscover
Among chirruping of voices, chink of glass,
Those simple needs that turned us into lover,
How solitary was the wilderness
Until we met, took leave of hosts and guests,
And with delicate consciousness of what was false
Walked off together, as if there were no one else.
– Brian Jones