Don Two

I'm not your drip, nor the big sea, the yellow light hid, ask about my lovers, with all their surly deeds, they haven't got my number, what I crave to live, as if it fits your creed, is a series of limits, that edge of wonder, being witness to believe, my high heeled mother, stones flowers pieces of drift, knowing its enough to see, what is in my gift, to enslave or encumber, a lifetime of greed, the peace of sweet slumber, would you leave me in sin, a lifetime of weeds, is it all spinning fibs, that gives me the need?