We had it slow like a mountain stream,
Steady and clear,
And all the small gray pebbles at sight,
The first,
Vanished like a water drop,
On a Saharan dune top,
All but left a bitter face,
The second,
Drained like a beer bottle on a thirsty truckers' hand,
Gone,
Down the sewer,
Not a thought spared,
Now the third,
And i am lost,
Juicy and yellow,
I call her baby,
She calls me daddy,
And i am lost
