there are wishes strewn 'bout the teal of the fountain
in the water that came down from 'top of the mountain
and the lion and horse in the sky are the same
as the gladness that rolls down her cheek in the rain
and it's a sad love that never ends
it's a tale the birds tell 'bout the wind
and the sunlight stands in relief on the floor
'round the shadow cast by your ghost in the door
and these lines that have grown on my face-what's to blame
for the sounds that rattle around in my brain?
*
and he goes and lights incense and tends to the grave
of the child who never learned how to behave
i don't believe a word you say
no, i can't believe those pretty words you say
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