Maybe it's the obsidian spirit within that wishes to be in her axis spin A topsy-turvy tango on the turnpike My heart tries keeping pace Embarrassment of riches, her smile never saves face I'm spoiled to witness a heavenly Rorschach test walking Olympic views sparkling on high A natural one Holy smokes I've seen the evergreens blush red When she brushstrokes Her paintbrush-lush hair amidst the background of the Puget Sound So refreshing Trapped in her net Outside the network of jerks Fishing for lust Refresh the pages Reload the look of ages My type of hype She's keying in on my keen instincts Putting wings on my desires So heights can be admired So fright can be delayed In flight, I've fallen.