She had a wave tattooed on her ribs
Which is apt
For her body was a riptide
That lead straight to her whirlpool heart

She had the sun tattooed on her thigh
Which is apt
For she was my sunshine
Every day was a new moon night when we were apart

She had a lyre tattooed on her shoulder
Which is apt
For she was my muse
And she always kept me in the dark

In my front yard there’s a tree
That’s just the same age as me
The tree is much taller
But I am much wiser
Because a tree cannot think, you see

The bard feels all sung out
As the world around him sleeps
He is the only one left
In the right sense of mind
Who doesn't feel strung out

So he sets to write a merry tune
'pon his lute so fine
For come the morning
When the people awake
An old tune just won't shine

He tries and tries
Till the **** does crow
But sadly sunrise comes

The women start to knead their dough
To cook their breakfast buns

And the poor old Bard
In this moment did find
Of songs he wrote not a single one
And he now is out of time