Agent Ribbons Jamaica And The Wishing Shrine
I haven’t seen you since December
It was a long long drive
Out in the middle of the desert
I wondered if I might cry
When we arrived it was as if there had been no time
Since the day that you moved out from down the hall
It was good to see your books and smell your perfume
It was good to see your pictures on the walls
You said you had to take me somewhere
And we went out into the night
A shrine devoted to a sinner
Illuminated by candle light
We wrote all of our dreams on scraps of paper
And put them in a wall of ancient play
The wishing shrine is all that we are made of
You held my hand until the night had turned to day
