Ferdy

You appear stoned, your picture up in lights, scrawled on the wall, if love holds true, why make me fight, because they all love you, say you're not alone, know which bells to strike, beat or break my bones, they call you Miss Fortune, pretty before your time, they don’t get your blues, the screams down a ‘phone, dreams of paradise, a flame without a home, your big account of virtue, passes within my sight, the wind blows bad news, down the April line.