I can't know the song of the south when my needle points north. the blue south elegant with lovely lake eyes in a smiling river on fire look at me Ape, the tailor whose fine linens he knows makes a man out of safety pins proud as an Indian I figure in future years I'll be stained by the tears of desperate clinging Miracle girls commercially perfect excel at Port Authority shall I run out to meet your hopes of liquor, tobacco & chocolate? up on chalkleg mirror mountain subtle and juicy