Joanne

Her name was Joanne, and she lived in a meadow by a pond.

And she touch'd me for a moment,

with a look that spoke to me of her sweet love.

Then the woman that she was drove her on with desperation,

and I saw as she went a most hopeless situation.

For Joanne, and the man, and the time that made them both wrong.

She was only a girl, I know that will, and still I could not see;

That the hold she had was much stronger than the love she had for me.

But staying with her, and my little bit of wisdom,

broke down her desires like a light thru a prism;

into yellows and blues and a tune that I could not have sung.

Tho' the essence is gone,

I have no tear to cry for her

and my only tho't of her is kind.

Her name was Joanne, and she lived in a meadow by a pond.

And she touch'd me for a moment,

with a look that spoke to me of her sweet love.

Then the woman that she was drove her on with desperation,

and I saw as she went a most hopeless situation.

For Joanne, and the man, and the time that made them both wrong.

For Joanne, and the man, and the time, that made them both wrong.