the town lapsed into silent outlines and fell asleep by two each day she'd watch the city die happiness is a yesterday thing - not like that dream she had in pink with dancers - to a halt into the canvas flat sits at her table she will work the world to shape and bend it to her will but it's all so hard she held an idea in spades half-knotted to a former glory and like a breaking branch seems to a fallen man you wouldn't believe they are shrunk back, back in a chair - winning here long it goes - so long it goes over again