She longs for Peace

Its her revenge

She's a stark-white Pale Horse Rider

And Hell's just around the bend

She's kids to raise

She's got bills to feed

And her pride is a higher horse

Than some bum of a man upon a steed

The handle's rough,

She works it smooth

Hardened by the pace

The handds get though and it transfers through

Before the lines can reach her face



She flies like a kite held at the other end

Tuggin; dont on her cinnamon threads

Shes shreddin' in the wind



But she reads The Bible

She believes in the light

She thumbs through the pages

Til the Good Book smolders and ignites

She cries late at night

No one to hold her tight

Like she should be.. Cinnamindy



Hoarse and sore, her scratchy voice

Saws thru a song like a rusty cello

Now I lay me down to sleep

Lights out, time to dream

Her days are fine

She makes everybody smile

With her raspy laugh

The days are long

But she blows it all off

With a wink and a little sass



She flies like a kite...