Blue light sitting lotus-style
In your A-frame in the countryside
Stillness slides the door
And walks inside
Candle on the windowsill
Burnt wickless through our lowlit meal
Heaven only knows the things you hide
In your blue eyes
In your sly smile
Tangerine on both your hands
Smells strong as the tobacco can
Roll me up a smoke
If you don't mind
Touch me like that afternoon
When your friends would all be over soon
You said what the hell
We'll make the time
With your blue eyes
And your sly smile
Writer(s): Samuel Ervin Beam
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