One voice inside to another says "I've got
More problems than us both". But that's
So sick to call life a problem that has it's needs
And needs to be solved. she thinks it over
While her satin black mane waves perfectly
Over one eye. she sits cross-legged doubled
Over as if she's clutching a child waiting to die.
Is it worth it? If you want to find peace at the
End of the road I promise I'll be there. Her
Heart has no bearing a weak sense of
Directions and things take too long to register.
Listen to regrets, at long last she's released
His love. And the front door haunts her.