she picked at the
guitar strings without much heart
and as the long night wearied into dawn
her song changed
the confines of this run down mill of the mind
had worn her down
watch now as daylights child spoon-fed
the nights dream now wakes crying for lack

daylights child growin fast
listen now as her fingers stumble in the sweet song
hear the notes changing like spring changes winters face
know that she must feel it deep
she was always a tough girl
and would never shown tears like this
lest it was going deep as deep can be
deep as the sea

listen now to her song
just her weeping to her her guitar
in this run down broken old mill
this factory of forlorn
the child of daylight now grown
flexed muscles for some some strange woman of evening
took his wallet an' took his boatman coat
washed poorboy out to sea
listen now to her motherhood song
weeping for foolish boy gone astray
weepin' for poorboy lost at sea

mind your mothers now lad's
watch them strange girls of the setting sun
set your lines and watch your jibing
sail good lad sail on home
set your lines watch your jibing
sail on home good lad's

Like marionettes,
dancing, swirling, jibing
moved by strings of their desires.
Their bodies set ablaze,
by the fiction of their hides.

Despairing to escape by any means,
keeping their mem'ries in the haze.
Aimlessly thrusting til' Tilda tires;
swinging, struggling, scathing,
like marionettes.

And when the zenith is reached,
comes a fleeting sense of victory.
Their point of contact comes to an end.
***** hollow, and soul still empty.
Like marionettes.