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.