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This Old Man Introduction (Declan)

de Lisa Loeb

"It's not really poetry, but its pretty," he said
As he raises his voice, she lowers her head
'It makes my heart heavy, you're lonely, I think
Oh, Rose, you're sad, I suppose."

"Look in her bed and she's bound to be sleeping.
She's lying there dead. - No, she's breathing."

Furious Rose, with your opiate eyes,
your languorous hum, that tone of surprise.
I've heard energy in adversity.
Your smile: the soul of witchery.
You're not running away,
you're not running - are you?

Lyrically longing, she's tearing the words from the page
She's fearfully seething
"Bring me your blessings, a prayer or a new pen.
- You don't know what I need."

"Look in my bed and I'm bound to be sleeping
I'm lying there dead, but I'm breathing.

And I'm barely balancing as it is
And I don't want to drown in my dreams
Bring me wild plums and agrimony
- I bet you don't even know what that means."

Furious Rose, with your opiate eyes,
your languorous hum, that tone of surprise.
I've heard energy in adversity.
Your smile: the soul of witchery.
You're not running away,
you're not running - are you?

Gingerly peering, over his shoulder, removed herself from theroom.
She's terribly freezing, she always knows when to go

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