It was a faster than a downshift at a christmas tree
Heart on the edge of blown fire
No trust just holding back power
Smell of rubber burns past real love

You found me the tavern
Sipping up your sweet wine

Held the water of the day
And I was feeling fine

Like all the days we spent in love
Quiet was the wind winding like a dove seeking

Souls working the corners of wind finding home
Sad willow reaches for the swing of our youth

A tire spinning wildly about promise meeting rooms
We are edges working pages to write

Love on a table top in words stinging of passion
As the boat floats past the Milky Way

We were just reality on a try

Reap all the sow of seeds planted in memories sings out of my mind

Rest waking about every dream in side out finding her looking through me
She is spying upon a vial of tributes burning a smile germinate in my soul

Whimpers of a keyboard pulling more faster than the wheels of time spinning

Each look passes for the age of nod but the pea pod is gone on alone
As close as what was asked for so long ago over the moon in foot lights

We act our roles and in the warmth of a bed stoned on high days faded

I cry as we pass our shadows needing more than paper and pen
Song died on kept knowledge working responsibility just popped the clutch and grab handful of gears and smoke

 

Maar was Picasso's mistress from 1936 until 1944. In the course of their relationship Picasso painted her in a number of guises, some realistic, some benign, others tortured or threatening.[4] Picasso explained:

"For me she's the weeping woman. For years I've painted her in tortured forms, not through sadism, and not with pleasure, either; just obeying a vision that forced itself on me. It was the deep reality, not the superficial one."[5]

"Dora, for me, was always a weeping woman....And it's important, because women are suffering machines."[6]