Pistachio
Sit down and fire away, I know it's tricky when you're feeling low,
When you feel like your flavor
Has gone the way of a pre-shelled pistachio,
I know you're weighed down
You're fed up with your heavy
Your boots
Laced with melancholy notion's all you own
I do, like sugar, tend toward the brittle and sticky when spun
And I know my demeanor
Has gone the way of a photo left out in the sun,
So I try to keep myself in lillies and flax seeds,
Oh what a folly- fooling just yourself
Sit down and smoke away,I wouldn't knock it till you're in them shoes
Oh watch as ours subtlety blows away as a blusher gives way to a bruise,
But seemly, we'd freely make a trade-off
A dry rot to take the weight off
Swap the boots for red shoes
Writer/s: Lisa Hannigan
