Lyrics
We sat cross-legged behind Mary Magdalene's
In a bamboo filled lit by a candle flame
Wax fell into the dirt as she read my tarot
She could see through me like a rotten oak barrel
When I said, it's time I go
She said, yes you best
She slipped a little note in the pocket on my chest
Which I read on my way home
In the morning before work, my spine still tingled
Her words in my head like the rain on the shingles
Like ink in folded page, a crease showed the space
Between truth and symbol
Its use I deduced could fit in a thimble
My boots held out the rain
I walked to work the same way each day
I imagined a piano someplace far off play
As a man was narrating my life
Written by: Peter Oren
