LADY MESCALINE
It isn't just the bad times that leave their mark on me
But anything that's good and goes irrevocably
The madman built his house on sand, on cork I pitched my tent
I didn't miss my water spirit till she up and went
I thought I held her tight but I was gathering gloom
Nothing left worth keeping in the seaward room
I searched her foot locker and her Amazon cart
Found a pile of finger paintings and a stack of broken hearts
I pass her picture round long after she's gone
Doing the Monster Mash with her red hair on
I was in the thick of her and she's the thin end of the wedge
She cast a silken shadow with a razor's edge
Now I'm your idea of normal, left behind what might have been
But I weep yet for Lady Mescaline