Antiques

Antiques - Redwood

I worry about you

From time to time

Are you home with your antiques

And sparkling aged wine

With bells at your doorway

Those good catholic chimes

A woman of golden stepped into my dream

She planted her garden

She cut down your tree

And now I'm so lonesome

Without misery

She'll fly on by now and nest where she will

The scream of his silence

The hunter must still

Don't leave me daydreams

But leave me she will