Ramona, come closer, shut softly your watery eyes.
The pangs of your sadness will pass as your senses will rise
For the flowers of the city, though breath-like, get death-like at times
And there's no use in trying to deal with the dying, though I cannot explain that in lines.
Your cracked country lips I still wish to kiss as to be by the strength of your skin.
Your magnetic movement still captures the minutes I'm in.
But it grieves my heart, love, to see you trying to be a part of a world that just don't exist.
It's all just a scheme, babe, a vacuum, a dream, babe, that sucks you into feeling like this.
I can see that your head has been twisted and fed with worthless foam from the mouth.
I can tell you are torn between staying and returning on back to the South.
You've been fooled into thinking that the finishing end is at hand.
Yet there's no one to beat you, no one to defeat you 'cept the thoughts of yourself feeling bad.
I've heard you say many times that you're better than no one and no one is better than you.
If you really believe that, you know you got nothing to win and nothing to lose.
From fixtures and forces and friends your sorrow does stem,
That hype you and type you, making you feel that you must be exactly like them.
I'd forever talk to you, but soon my words, they would turn into a meaningless ring
For deep in my heart I know there's no help I can bring.
Everything passes, everything changes. Just do what you think you should do.
And someday maybe – who knows, baby? – I'll come and be crying to you.