Little miss runs away. Didn't think you would ever
come back. As I turned my head.
I find my newest complication.
She won't run. Won't fall. She don't talk to.
Anyone at all. Am I your sleepless dream? Can I whisper soft advice?
Am I the wind rush through the trees? Turning leaves of observation.
She won't run. And won't fall. She don't talk to. Anyone at all.
River rushes towards. A south city left behind.
The Tug is moving at a walking pace.
Slithering up her spine. I won't run.
I won't fall. I don't talk to. Anyone at all.