My buddy Todd set us up.
Her name, I knew her name:
Isabel Fienne.
I met her outside of Byron's,
drinking a 40 out of a brown bag.
She wore black, black spaghetti strap,
black Memphis skirt, black stockings.
I told her I liked the color of her eyes.
She said her dad just died.
And asked me, "What was your name again?"
I asked her, "How about a little of that drink?"
We spent the night throwing rocks at passing cars,
dodging police, and talking about how
we liked the anonymity of night.

We woke up in an alley.

I whispered the word stockings.
She bit my lip.
We get married the first of June.

The girl is a flower
Standing tall
Through this Fall
Filled with optimism, power

The girl is a flower
Sits in the sun
Day is done
Then, she begins to cower

The girl is nothing but a flower
Let the rain be tears
Puddles be mirrors
For this is the final shower

Why does my heart skip a beat
It takes only a moment's glance
My mouth won't form the words
Not right and I'll shake a little bit
I'll try not to stutter, I'll try
And you'll say everything right
Then I'll trip on my own two feet
& fall head over heals for you