Rise and outshine the rest, oh baby girl of mine…
Oh my, oh why, has her A-to-Z list been distantly propositioned
Searches for her twisted family-tree and he somehow sees a one way out of here.
By that handshake, the gentile sentimental steer of
These fearless eyes.
Oh why, oh my sweet tenderised Caroline, she’s been picking up the pieces to finally find a piece of p.eace.
And quiet, it is dark outside can’t you simply see?
Wears her manicured silver-faced slippers put upon the very same two feet – fretful aside desirably, tiredly disguised aside vehemently dis.tinguished.
Take it on the chin til size-three, please… the Queen to my Kings of Lyon – farther overseas.
Day-drinking ‘n’ thinkin’… for the three of We so soon
She’s been put upon the ropes again – a million miles away from everything and nowhere but a mile-a-minute from home sweet bones of her bohemian being, wherein the shape of the oblong heart ceases to beat – bleed – any more than the next wonderful threat.
Retreats, retreats, re.treats midst this foretold, Canvas City – Kansas City – multi-syllabic regret.
This is her hand.held penitentiary. Of forgotten dre.ams so it seems.
And it fin.ally appears to be that she’s been com.ing home again. With her tattoo-impassioned person hidden shyly – slyly – beneath these whispering sycamore sleeves.
I am driving on the left side of nothing whilst she puts herself upon my right-hand side of everything – yet nobody knows nothing anymore. All of us holding something for keeps.
Secret.ively I’m gonna have to be her lover and we’re gonna have ourselves a blue-eyed babyyyyy. With freckles put upon her cheek. Wait til she speaks.
With nothing up her sleeve.