Too enthralled my soul
looking deep into plaid eyes.
Next, the blessed ink.
I want liberty
And license
And the style of a woman
Running free
Licking her fingers
Of the taste of your air
The Year of Ashes
I remember there was fire
Nothing’s the same since
Without fail he bends his light in love to you
And colors your name in all the spaces of his places
Run to him girl, pot of gold
A more true bow in all the rain in all the world you’ll not find
Redeem his hope and offer up your second chance
Soothe him girl, pot of gold