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Mitchell Joni Clouds ROSES BLUE I think of tears, I think of rain on shingles I think of rain, I think of roses blue I think of Rose, my heart begins to tremble To see the place she's lately gotten to Gotten to, gotten to She's gotten to mysterious devotions She's gotten to the zodiac and Zen She's gotten into tarot cards and potions She's laying her religion on her friends On her friends, on her friends Friends who come to ask her for their future Friends who come to find they can't be friends Because of signs and seasons that don't suit her She'll prophesy your death, she won't say when Won't say when, won't say when When all the black cards come you cannot barter No, when all your stars are stacked you cannot win She'll shake her head and treat you like a martyr It is her blackest spell she puts you in Puts you in, puts you in In sorrow she can lure you where she wants you Inside your own self-pity there you swim In sinking down to drown her voice still haunts you And only with your laughter can you win Can you win, can you win You win the lasting laurels with your laughter It reaches like an arm before you sink To win the solitary truth you're after You dare not ask the priestess how to think How to think, how to think I think of tears, I think of rain on shingles I think of rain, I think of roses blue I think of Rose, my heart begins to tremble To see the place she's lately gotten to Gotten to, gotten to |
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