the bambina, she will not speak finding me in hurts honor as creeks do i or wont she be the aisles beside me in the hours an hour and a prayer an hour with lords and her saviors they her sisters and gypsied loves with ending questions the bambina, a mystery of irish hands boy would you just be him, never, again when she's stuck to my side forever the love you lost in the frames of her fathers her sweaters around in the hands of another mans famine again
i aint allowed the soft hand but you learn from me before a better man