Hera Three

From my white garden seat, I carry a load, It takes time to defeat, secrets like lemons seed, ravaged lipstick Eau De Cologne, I only whisper feelings, when lovers trick or treat, my perfumes soaked, whiskey I down neat, living by a swollen creek, my prayers take hold, granny tucks her sleeves, a gun next to the sheets, she's no rolling stone, what better cure than ease, bathed in wine or yeast, isolated but still at home, there are still more beats, to measure these beans, no public telephones, down fields of blue wheat, we’re not alone.