Autobiographical, poetic commentary emphasizing compassion,
ones search for truth &
that which cannot be found except from within…
Consider well the altruism found here (to the great chagrin of 'detractors').
©Copyright 2006-2022 by RK, Planetary Poet Laureate (of the end time)
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
She talks to angels
[Lyrics by the Black Crowes, verbatim, for Leah.]
She never mentions the word
“addiction” in certain company.
Yes, she’ll tell you she’s an orphan,
after you meet her family.
She paints her eyes as black as night now,
pulls those shades down tight.
Yeah, she gives a smile when the pain comes.
The pain gonna’ make everything all right.
She says she talks to angels.
They call her out by her name.
Oh yeah, she talks to angels,
says they call her out by her name.
She keeps a lock of hair in her pocket.
She wears a cross around her neck.
Yes, the hair is from a little boy, and the
cross is someone she has not met, not yet.
She says she talks to angels,
says they all know her name.
Oh yeah, she talks to angels,
says they call her out by her name.
She don’t know no lover,
none that I ever seen.
Yet, to her that ain’t nothin’, but to
me, yeah me, means everything.
She paints her eyes as black as night now.
She pulls those shades down tight.
Oh yeah, there’s a smile when the pain comes.
The pain gonna’ make everything all right,
all right, yeah, yeah. - She talks to angels,
says they call her out by her name, oh yeah.
Yeah, angels call her out by her name.
Oh, oh, angels call her out by her name.
Oh, oh, she talks to angels.
They call her out, yeah, yeah,
call her out. - Don’t you know that
they call her out, by her name?+
--RK, 4:18amEDST, 3/10/2015 - [New, accurate transcription.]
[Lyrics by the Black Crowes, verbatim, for Leah.]
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