She was spring.
Gentle and Flawless, derived from the sunlight.
Easy on the eyes, Sprouting her arms up to the glass sky.
Free.
The way her feet kiss the Earth life it's true love then depart from it.
She always dances, perceived to be in the summertime of her life.
No one sees.
No one should ever have to but me.
When she's stressing and she's got those damn feelings of her hurt.
She feels she's ugly, Dear God, and she sits and it's inly her and the cocaine moon.
She doesn't know that she's the golden gladness to our afternoons.
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