A waitress is feeling generous today,

Liquids are spilling on my new dress,

Thought I’d take a ride to Reading,

Girls in waiting are Sunday’s best.

Maybe the fruit has become a tree,

Work for the cherry picking scene,

The baked in lie like warm apple pie,

While we pay for who we’ve been.

Well maybe I want to help this waitress,

And take that twinkle from her eye,

Because the stars belong in Hollywood,

Not to some nothing wretched guy.

All plaid and plait and weave and loom,

I’m the fire that dreams of snow,

Crazy rippling from my pebbling pond,

It’s the butterflies you have to know..