To fight it like to stand in the born.
No clothes...

To cress,
The moons heat beating...

Questions you ask,
For what i hold...

Inside my hand;
It's gold i hold...

Ma-by i would like to tell you,
Of something i can see...

Clean for a year,
No mark to show...

Quiet like mouse,
No sound to be herd...

Like a rubber band,
Stretchy from poll to poll...

She was expecting me home at 9.
My baby blue...

Sickness that can't be stopped or even found.
As you lay so calmly in bed...

She thought you left,
To leave her alone...

A glowing face,
As thought not told...