Her Name Was Audre

On the back of a hand, something about poetry.

At the back of a throat, something about luxury.

You never want to leave the local library.

She always thought that you might understand.

Her name was Audre and she had a lot to say.

She didn't bore me with her consummate display.

Feel the back of a hand something about slavery.

At the back of a throat something about a litany.

You never want to leave the local library.

She always hoped that you might understand.

Her name was Audre and she had a lot to say.

She didn't bore me with her consummate display.

Touch the back of a hand, something about Infamy.

From the back of a throat, something about equality.

You never want to leave the local library.

Her name was Audre and she had a lot to say.

But when the sickness came it took her voice away.