I wish I could lay on a windmill blade,
and write poems about the way
the sun has taken on the hills
as her lesbian lover
but every time I try,
I fall to the ground,
and miss the way
their lips caress each other.
I wish I could lay on a windmill blade,
and write poems about the way
the sun has taken on the hills
as her lesbian lover
but every time I try,
I fall to the ground,
and miss the way
their lips caress each other.
