Each lover’s vice

Your song is a sad song, listened to on days,
When people are crying, and children asleep.
All out of time, with misguided beats,
That hushes a crowd whenever it plays.
With its out of time words, and its young, naïve ways,
And the deep, breathy voice of heart gone to ice.
As this cold, broken tune makes each lover’s vice.
And makes you fall in love with each sunken gaze.