There she sits, a lofty perch.
Strangest color blue.
Flying is forgotten now.
Thinks only of you.
Just you.
So, get all those blues,
Must be a thousand hues.
And each just differently used.
You just know.
You sit there mesmerized
By the depth of her eyes
That you can’t categorize.
She got soul.
She got soul.
She got soul.
She got soul!
Do you think she knows you?
Do you think at all?
Soon she’s going to fly away.
Sadness is her own.
Reverse of a bath of tears
And go home, and go home.
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