- Kate wasn't in to moderation, that's what led to her frustration and the state of her crumbling heart says I'm not a girl for temperance, though I know its at my hearts expense, but a downward spiral has to have a rock bottom. She paints the walls blue and green, singing about her lovers and dreams, and explains her helpless desperation. Take off your shoes,unravel your blues, this place is full of beggars and choosers, but the consequence of her liberty was bad. My hearts wants to go one way. My mind don't agree cause they, they have fallen out recently. "Know thy self," She said as she guided me round the land of the dead, introducing her friends stuck in the same mess. Ships might be built for sailing my love and easels made for painting, but you ain't no sailor and I'll never be camera shy. She said, "Will I praise again? Oh will I praise again?"
- My mama told me everything, gave me her life, but Mama never told me that I would be a wife. My father taught me everything, taught me wrong from right. Oh Daddy get me out of here, I cannot deal with life. And if you see my sisters, they are small and gold. They don't believe a word you say, they don't believe in soul. I from a country land, where beauty only grows and though I'd love to leave someday, I dare not ever go. Perhaps I'll be a bird one day, if I'm good enough and I'll get up and fly away and give up all this stuff. I'll give it to a father, he'll know the same as you, as every human is unique, so every thought is too. And Sonny Boy's awful nice, kept his parents clean. Sonny never told a lie til the day that he met me. And if you see my sisters, they are small and gold. They won't believe a word you say, they don't believe in soul. I'm a believer. I'm no deceiver.
- Oh naive little me, asking what things you have seen. You're vulnerable in your head, you'll scream and you'll wail till you're dead. Creatures fade by night following things that aren't right and they're tired and they need to be lead. They'll scream and they'll wail till they're dead. But give me to a rambling man. Let it always be known that I was who I am. Beaten, battered, and cold, my children will live just to grow old. But if I sit here and weep I'll be blown over by the slightest of breeze. And the weak need to be lead. And the tender I'll carry to their bed. And its a pale and cold affair, I'll be damned if I'll be found there by someone you don't want to be.
dec 9 2012 ∞
dec 13 2012 +