These words don't belong to me.
They come from a silky soft voice.
That calls from the tops of the trees.
She never really gives me a choice.

When she starts to sing her song.
I become her willing faithful slave.
My hand moves effortlessly along.
She makes this meek man quite brave.

When she leaves my mind goes to black.
I want to lay in bed and cover my head.
Her angelic musings are like my crack.
When this happens my words go dead.