Arisen the figure took her breath
but no longer the figure she could behold

Evil brainwork is at hand
her eyes on a stand

She knows why
but dares not penetrate

It is not hard to understand
as it is to uphold

Perplexion of her thought comes
from her incertitude

away from

Sunrise and morning dew
make it crisp to rubber boot

La estancia no esta lejos
and the figure isn't either

She tries to anchor
but it's too late
the ship has sailed and her horse knows

Something sinister in the horizon tempted
for a walk. Looking downhill she thought.
Walking upright she went.

A gazed voice asked
for her direction that to which she replied
a dirt path

Somehow she was taken in foreign dirt.

Word she was lorn.
Word she was torn.
Word she had left God.