Shingles she had accounted sitting for twenty-five
Holding onto nothing while her ornaments eat the dust
Frost-bitten frigid air whistling on the field
Storm-beaten rails singing water-songs
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She just wants someone to join
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Candles meandering crossing over through her shack'
Bottles whistling preparing for the leap-of-cracks
Gold shining as it does as the times of old
Is it the gold that matters or is it the one who wears the gold?
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She just wants someone to join
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Ho-ho-hoy coming from whence she does not know
Pulled-down thistles sharper than a stack of bristles hiding life that grows
Waiting for a menacing hand; Handing over three reasons to stand
Standing on a crumbled-ridden rug with nothing else under but
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She just wants someone to join
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Doo-doo-doo-la-laaaaaa