Brett Anderson Pretty Widows
See the pretty widows, cold as April skies; hold their
winter roses, clothed in nursery rhymes,
And love is where you find it and love is where you reach
and love is in the patterns at her feet
So play her game of tarot, hold her hennaed hand, fold
her dress like petals, turn the hanging man
And love is where you find it and love is where you reach
and love is in the patterns at her feet
So call the pretty widows, clear as April skies, steal
her winter roses, sing her nursery rhymes
Na na na na na na na na na
Oh when the morning calls, and the morning calls
