You talk about the junk you did,. Like you talk about climbing trees. You look like a little kid,. With bruises on your knees. . You will never cop,. To the damage that's been done.
I had to go back to that house one more time. To see if the camellias were in bloom. For so many reasons its been on my mind. The house on Belmont Avenue.
You wear your anger well and stand. For all the world to see. A heavy cloak and one gloved hand. And no humility. . You stand inside the garden. And feast on black cherries.
You weren't born to be abandoned. You weren't born to be forsaken. You were born to be loved. You were born to be loved. . You weren't born to be mistreated.
You've got a sense of humor. You're a mystery. I heard a rumor. You're making history. . Photographic dialogues. Beneath your skin. Pornographic episodes.
Everything is goin' wrong. It's not right anymore. We can't seem to get along. The way we did before. . Sun is hangin' in the sky. Sinkin' low and so am I.