She grows
pretty flowers
from her hair…
Ransom held yesterdays shadows for loveliness
Eyes full, the rubberneck roses grow tall
nightfall, Calliope whispers the scorpion floodlight
picking the flowers that grow on the wall
wrapped all in the ivy stare, she dove beneath the morning
swimming circles 'round the sun, she smiled and she arched her back,
picking flowers for the graveyard
in the morning with her hair down
bringing flowers for the graveyard in the morning
the ladders in the market square make patchwork of the mess
in the sweet plumb-line of success, thorn's-geometric sweat-torn petals
growing flowers for the graveyard
in the morning with their hair down
growing flowers in the morning growing flowers
Ransom held yesterdays shadows for loveliness
Eyes full, the rubberneck roses grow tall
nightfall, Calliope whispers the scorpion floodlight
picking the flowers that grow on the wall
Up the steps in sterile care the banking hands weave love affairs
with babies on the way, 'neath business ties and friendly smiles
pressing flowers for the graveyard
in the morning with their hair down
pressing flowers for the graveyard in the morning
and she walks a-
long the railroad
in the sunshine
with her hair down
picking flowers
in the morning
picking flowers.