The Book Of Her Life

When they write the book of her life Consulted pets confide That while the sun beat she would stay inside Tearing out a new page every night In Spetses of yore they'd have worshipped her like A windswept night is worshipped in July When they frame the petals that she plucked And decorate the railway with her heart Peace and quiet is all she asks for What more could a girl want? When they write some words about her life They'll recite her verse about the starlight "Venus, you're alright But looking up is less fashionable than looking to the side" When they frame the petals that she plucked And release her into the world They'll decorate the railway with her heart And release her back into the world When they shoot the film of her life They'll come to fight deciding how to condense a life She's the Queen And they're the hive She's on fire And they're just moths to her light When they frame the petals that she plucked And decorate the railway with her heart Between her wits' end and the barrel of her tongue She swallowed her pride and slept for a long, long time