Of Sorry Eyes In March

Destiny marks your life With a knowing indie. The act of desire has walked on by. An ancient soul limps from your eyes It is just your [tear?] left to it. Flies lie dying on your soury lips And on young love's broken wings. And the stone that lets you drown You are not worth stopping for. The Earth, With all it's blessing And the endless [patterns?] of night. Lay a raft of gold for you My field here