There you are, my pretty little thing,
Sitting gently, upon a string.
Waiting for a call the tree will fall,
But that don’t mean a thing at all
I take the truth, from your eyes,
There the pool of brown knows no compromise
Here I am barking and bleeding,
Hoping one note will fall with my pleading
Searching the mist and fog
Chased by a pack of dogs
Wishing for the sun to rise,
Sitting on a string
A pretty little thing
But still no compromise,
My pretty little thing,
With the big pool of brown eyes
Sitting on a string preciously
Without any compromise
Daniel Richards
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-pretty-little-thing/
