She comes and she goes,

she puts stuff up her nose,

sometimes almost an overdose,

and nobody knows

if she returns, this rose.

She’s like a river that flows

aimlessly lingering to some far away sea;

I hope one day she finds her way back to me.

 

                                  

 

 

Pretending her love for me is so deep,

raising me to heights so steep,

not even a grain of fear for tumbling down.

Now I’m left in my balloon with no more air,

recognizing she did not treat me real fair.

There’s only one thing to do now at last and

that’s alter my situation real fast,

cause it’s a long way going down

 too the sad, sad singles-bar downtown.