Tug - Seven Mary Three

Little miss runs away.

Didn’t think you would ever come back.

As I turned my head.

I find my newest complication.

She won’t run.

Won’t fall.

She don’t talk to.

Anyone at all.

Am I your sleepless dream?

Can I whisper soft advice?

Am I the wind rush through the trees?

Turning leaves of observation.

She won’t run.

And won’t fall.

She don’t talk to.

Anyone at all.

River rushes towards.

A south city left behind.

The Tug is moving at a walking pace.

Slithering up her spine.

I won’t run.

I won’t fall.

I don’t talk to.

Anyone at all.