Lucy

Lucy, where are you now?
Lucy, where are you now?
Lucy, where are you now?
Are you hiding?
Born in the firepit
Poetry on our grave
I forgot so many names
But I’m trying
I think it’s time to go
The bartender is mean and slow
And maybe he doesn’t know, that you’re blinding
And I need a night alone
The wind through the trees alone
The ice in the glass alone
Slow and shiny