She sings to soundless shadows
. . prays with a broken halo
I should probably leave
but a buried love song plays in my dizzy head
. . . a running needle fallows the grove
Beauty
only skin deep
. . . plays tricks on me in the sunlight
She’s crazy about lucid dreams
. . . listens carefully to the pitch of rain
. . . open to persuasion
I should probably leave
but her tender miracles need wings to fly
She sings to soundless shadows
. . . prays with a broken halo
. . . purple pilot in the sky
walking on a delicate moon
Shea butter baby kisses me blind
a thousand times
like Sunday morning black keys
. . . belladonna sunrise
I come up for air
as she rivers her precious colors
. . . painting my paper truth
without confines
. . . open to persuasion
. . . walking on a delicate moon
she sings to soundless shadows
. . . prays with a broken halo
I should probably leave
but her tender miracles need wings to fly