The red haired woman talks to her heart
As if it really cares that she is weak
And in need of wheels, and water
She dismisses the truth
That we will soon see clouds
Life will name them for us, tell us what they mean
My younger father, shit,
He will tell us what they are saying
And we will pretend to understand, as to not disappoint
But it is the clouds that will be disappointed,
Not my father
Red’s wheels will be just fine
As far as us, I think so too.
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