Jenny Three

I beat a useless retreat, for all he cannot find, nothing seems to please, he won't bear good news, that love just needs time, or hear a little truth, I fear the hiss of alchemy, what doesn't rate sublime, he turns into Blasphemy, can't disguise his Blues, or face what's on his mind, there's never only you, he shakes his car keys, an open-topped warm clime, brings no Odyssey, rather than a loving creed, for what might shine, he'd prefer to bleed, forget any sense of ease, that isn't a crime, I’ll face my own needs, somewhere down the line.