Something rare

When your soul is quiet
and your hair is long  
you can come    
to the garden  
and sing this song  
it goes:  
Tell your mother,  
tell your sister,  
tell your brother,  
tell your lover,  
tell yourself  
how I need you.  
   
I need you,  
my darling,  
my oldest friend,  
I need you    
like morphine  
at the end  
I would smoke you my darling,  
until my lungs were dry  
I would hold you angel  
until you die  
   
and we'll walk    
we'll walk  
through the garden  
we will talk  
of sweet things  
and we'll sing this song  
and it goes:  
Tell your mother,  
tell your sister,  
tell your brother too,  
tell your lover,  
tell yourself  
how I need you.  
I need you, my darling  
like dopamine  
I need you  
it's obscene.