Queen Eleanorwhat can i give you that you don't havei shake my head, I lower my gaze,one hundred roses, Egyptian sagea thousand words, an empty pageQueen Eleanor of Aquitaineobsidian hair in mornings' rainmy heart and thoughts wound rou
wishbones and bowsI’m tired of my own reflectionI’m tired ofthe sound of my guitar to the best of my recollectionI’ve never crawled out this far I’m an architect kickin out windows,a gardener who's gone colorblind,a bookend on a park