I remember thirty-two.
I was happy; drunk; with you.
Although after, in the snow,
Back alone, I cried to go.

In between the sexy French,
Every thought became a wrench
To a nightmare I believed;
From a dream I've always grieved.

Do you think the others there
Were amused; even aware
Of how drink affected us;
How we let it get to us?

I once thought my thirty-two
Was declaring love with you
But it turned out as farewell.
And I couldn't even tell.