Dolores

You laugh the way you do, but it’s not the heat, the desert doesn't frighten you, that’s not you you say, these flowers stay sweet, even after the rain, you are like a worn shoe, brown and sixty three, before the wind rocked cruel, but you won’t blow away, like the autumn leaves, nothing disturbs your sway, just the yellow and grey, poverty you turned to dreams, lying back on hot spring days, not letting the doom crew, turn your head or make it seem, sad dancing at a Blues, stay with me.