The stars no longer pinned to the black
Fell to the earth with a mighty crack...

Wrapped in your tender graces and
Tied up with laughter...

When I'm lazy and
Can't face the day...

This train of thought has no first class coach.
Strictly second class with rain dirty windows...

That cut glass voice purring down the line
Hints at seduction and deep red wine...

Trying to catch lightning in the palms of his...
But he can't see the sky with his head in the sand...

Here's a photo of me at eleven,
Shining with life and innocence brightly...

Her new green dress hangs
sublime, floating shy and coy...

Tattered ribbons of black plastic
Caught on a wire fence...