In the quiet morning 

There was much despair
And in the hours that followed
No one could repair

That poor girl
Tossed by the tides of misfortune
Barely here to tell her tale
Rolled in on a sea of disaster
Rolled out on a mainline rail

She once walked tight at my side
I'm sure she walked by you
Her striding steps could not deny
Torment from a child who knew

That in the quiet morning
There would be despair
And in the hours that followed
No one could repair

That poor girl
She cried out her song so loud
It was heard the whole world round
A symphony of violence
The great southwest unbound


Over your shoulder, please don't mind me if my eyes have 

fallen onto your magazine for I've been watching and wondering why
your face is changing with every line you read. All those lines
and circles, to me, a mystery. Eve pull down the apple and give
taste to me. If she would be wonderful, but my pride is in the
way. I cannot read to save my life, I'm so ashamed to say.
I live in silence, afraid to speak of my life of
darkness because I cannot read. For all those lines and circles,
to me, a mystery. Eve pull down the apple and give taste to me.
If she could it would be wonderful. Then I wouldn't need someone
else's eyes to see what's in front of me. No one guiding me.
It makes me humble to be so green at what every kid can
do when he learns A to Z, but all those lines and circles just
frighten me and I fear that I'll be trampled if you don't reach
for me. Before I run I'll have to take a fall. And then pick
myself up, so slowly I'll devour every one of those books in the
Tower of Knowledge.