Chittering and chattering and sitting in a tree,
smoke another cigarette and think of who to be,
legs over the berries and I’m seeing what I see,
gently swaying, singing, I don’t know where to begin,
brush the brush and twigs aside to keep away the din.
Blue skies and frosted clouds in Winter, what a joy,
mind is grey and purple and I’m thinking of a boy,
I don’t want to fuck him so he’s saying that I’m coy,
friends I meet are leaving by the day and by the week,
guess I’ve got to find a train or learn to fall asleep.

Hello moon and hello sun,
I find it swell to come upon
your light and twisted magic path,
but don’t ask me to have your back,
that resolve and strength I lack -
but you’re beautiful.