Twenty-to-two

It's twenty-to-two in the morning:
The stars should illuminate the sky,
The moon should be crisp like the mountains
On a cold winter's morning in France,
And her back should be upon my chest,
Her dreams should be whispered in my ear,
The smell of her hair should be drifting
My thoughts to a dream about her.

Still twenty-to-two in the morning.
Will this evening, ever have an end?
Will the stars ever shine in my eyes?
And when the moon is a mountain-crisp,
Will she be here next to me?

The sun has risen with the morning,
And a legion of birds sing with joy.
I hear lovers kiss to the sunrise,
While young children swoon to the beauty;
But still you're not breathing beside me,
My whole life's now counting to the end;
The time: twenty-to-two.