Everything that she wants, she gets
Everything that she begs, she receives
Everything that she sees, she hears

This is what her gears are moving towards

Time of presence is relevant
Time is of the essence
Will you give her what she asks for?
Or will she find another love

You will never be good enough
You will never succeed
You will always fail
As you are nothing

You are not beautiful enough
You are not smart enough
You are not slim enough
As you are nothing

You will always be doubtful
You will always be afraid
You will always feel belittled
As you are nothing

You will never be happy
You will never be loved
You will never be appreciated
As you are nothing

If she is temptation it's an open window.
She brushes her hand through the wind on the street.
The glass parade is already going.
The ticker tape falls like shattered crystals, mixed with thistles
at our feet.

And I'm embarrassed by the way the weather's changed.
It once was rainy but now the sun makes life in us.
Pump the handle, bring the oxygen up from the well.
Lungs of brick were never meant to treat us well.

Take my hand I am scared and my smiles shallow.
Turn our heads, it's hard to breathe but I'll take you in.
These falling diamonds make a crown on your forehead.
The floats are waiting to take us to the stadium.

Eyes wide open, awe is a silent word.
We host conversations never forming a syllable.
All the bliss of every creatures soul.
The universe gathered as the ceremony starts.

Now we have access to a great unknown.
Will we plummet or reach a summit never peaked before.
I am ready if you are by my side.
We walk from excitement into the Greatest Awe.

Oh who is that young sinner with the handcuffs on his wrists?
And what has he been after that they groan and shake their fists?
And wherefore is he wearing such a conscience-stricken air?
Oh they're taking him to prison for the color of his hair.

'Tis a shame to human nature, such a head of hair as his;
In the good old time 'twas hanging for the color that it is;
Though hanging isn't bad enough and flaying would be fair
For the nameless and abominable color of his hair.

Oh a deal of pains he's taken and a pretty price he's paid
To hide his poll or dye it of a mentionable shade;
But they've pulled the beggar's hat off for the world to see and stare,
And they're taking him to justice for the color of his hair.

Now 'tis oakum for his fingers and the treadmill for his feet,
And the quarry-gang on Portland in the cold and in the heat,
And between his spells of labor in the time he has to spare
He can curse the God that made him for the color of his hair.

She had the kind of voice that
Could calm a stormy sea
And in its absence, my heart
Is a maelstrom and I'm
Discovering how deep the
Ocean really is.