She stirs around wearing on worthless mind,
her scarlet lips like berries well timed.
and her smeared face blinds them.
She lumbers freely, and in summer, she's naked.
'ah', a pang of shame; the owl avoids her dark.
except a fool who lies; but her lies are as
beautiful as a host of golden daffodils.
The sound of her heels is the cracking of the burning woods.
she's well known, but always unique to them.
A lady in different cities, to different hoods.
A vacant mind he holds, paints naivety over them.
and her beauty, employs the fools.
if she's not your sister, i'm his