i’m just a bag blowing across the lawns,
landing ‘round your feet until you have to look down.
and when you look down all you see is the ground
and the grass and the giant’s feet.
can i play with your hair while you play on the keys
and i’ll close my eyes when i’m in love with the sound.
Alone in my castle, an inch from a mile, with little maiden
gin. and no more thoughts of him. and no more thoughts
of sin. It’s the needle i keep pulling you by and the thread
wrapped tightly around our sides that pulls you back to the
mountain side and makes me miss your spider arms