Hair secured like a bonnet around the back of her mind
flowing down like a water-fall divided by crag over cliffs,
I look back and its in a tail but hardly pony, almost as long as our conversations, talking about the tunes got me loony,
cant wait to call you roomy, see you when your'e moody,
Soft hands molded like the clay they manipulate,
Soft words bolded by the way they abdicate, from her lips,
Oh my, you have me falling, floating, oh wait I think I just tripped.