Darker than Darjeeling in the afternoon,
Sweeter than the honey that is mixed with the stirring spoon,
Turning February into June with a sip,
The taste of a promenade's pace on my lips.
Darker than Darjeeling in the afternoon,
Sweeter than the honey that is mixed with the stirring spoon,
Turning February into June with a sip,
The taste of a promenade's pace on my lips.